


Lines of Lightning

by WizardPendragon



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - High School, Eating Disorders, High School, High School Castiel/Dean Winchester, High School Student Castiel (Supernatural), High School Student Dean Winchester, Homophobia, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Jock Dean Winchester, M/M, Nerd Castiel (Supernatural), Slow Burn, Slurs, Underage Drinking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-20
Updated: 2021-01-26
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:14:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 21
Words: 124,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26000971
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WizardPendragon/pseuds/WizardPendragon
Summary: It's senior year and Castiel Novak isn't expecting anything exceptional to happen. He has his friends, his debate team, his family to drive him crazy, and only a vague idea on what the hell he's going to do after high school. When his brother's childhood friend moves back into town, the most Castiel can hope for is expanding his social circle by a person or two.Dean Winchester didn't think he'd be spending his first year of "adulthood" still in high school and suddenly under his father's thumb again. He's trying to make the best of it, giving his all on the hockey team and looking out for his little brothers while fostering his newfound friendship with his classmate. Only thing is, the full on gay crisis he's having is throwing a wrench in his year.
Relationships: Castiel & Dean Winchester, Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 61
Kudos: 192





	1. Chapter 1

It ought to feel different, the last first day of school. The freshmen pushing by do look a little younger than Castiel remembers seeing the year before, but he doesn’t necessarily feel any older. He certainly doesn’t feel senior. At least he knows where all his classes are without trying to sneak glances at a crumpled sheet they all pretended they didn’t need. He slips by a knot of rowdy boys and into the door of the classroom, heading towards his favorite seat. Back corner, by the window. He’s smart, he does well in his classes, but he also likes to daydream, and he enjoys being able to look outside when his mind needs the chance to wander. He drops himself into the chair, resting his chin on his hand while he watches other students start to trickle in.

Their groups are pretty well-defined at this point; most of them have been at the same school for the last three years. Castiel knows he’s lucky to have the crew he does. Debate team was a pretty good way to single out the nerdier, more eccentric kids and drag them all together. He has a few friends outside of that group too, though. Well, he has one friend. As if he was summoned, Balthazar is the next through the door, heading straight for Castiel. 

“Cassie, darling, we have so much to catch up on!” He doesn’t mind shouting over everyone else to be heard, but most of their classmates are aware that’s just Balthazar’s normal tone and ignore him. Balthazar settles in the seat next to Castiel, bottom lip pouting out. “Why didn’t you come to dinner last night?” 

“I told you, we were already going out for my mom’s birthday.” Balthazar huffs and slumps back in his chair, arms coming to cross his chest. Even pouting the way he is, he manages to look more sophisticated and cultured than most 18 year old boys would ever get close to. 

“Well, it better have been fun for you to blow off your best friend.” It’s no surprise that Balthazar was the star of most of the theater programs their school ran, he carried that drama with him constantly. 

“I didn’t blow you off,” Castiel replies, giving his eyes a bit of a roll. “Go on then, how was France?” 

“Oh, it was fine. They’ve done so many repairs on the chateau this year, my room was actually functional.” His phone is out of his pocket and in Castiel’s face, pictures already pulled up as if Balthazar had been planning exactly how the conversation would play out. Knowing him, it was likely he had. The chateau is impressive, all classic gothic architecture, at least on the outside. It doesn’t look like a place someone can live, with towers framing the entryway, small but intricately designed windows nestled into the thick stone of the old building. The outside looks the same as he’s seen every year, but there was some historical design that they weren’t supposed to change and it’s so beautiful Castiel can’t fathom why anyone would want to. They’d been modernizing the rooms inside, though, adding electricity to the ones that didn’t have it, updating plumbing, all the luxuries of the modern world. 

“I’ve finally convinced father to get wifi routers on every floor. The signal was so awful last time I had to be in the main ballroom if I wanted to watch anything.” The next picture shows a massive television mounted in what Castiel thinks is Balthazar’s room. 

A lot of their classmates think Balthazar is a snob. Castiel can understand why, if they’ve never actually spoken to him. He is jealous, sometimes, his friend stealing away to some incredible castle in France every single summer, but he knows it’s not as fun as it seems. A nasty divorce left Balthazar’s father in France and his mother moving back to America. Castiel doesn’t quite understand why she would choose to settle back in Lawrence, Kansas after her jet-setting adventures, but he’s grateful he did if it means he gets to keep Balthazar around. 

“Are you going back next year?” Castiel questions. Balthazar’s face drops slightly. Castiel knows he’s been avoiding the discussion all summer. 

“Father’s trying to convince me to apply to university in France. We had to have a ‘discussion’ about it every night. I don’t know what he expects, though, even if I go to school there I’m not going to live with him. I couldn’t do very well in my courses if he never lets me out the bloody door.” That’s always been Balthazar’s main complaint about his summers. Apparently, even a giant, historical chateau quickly grew old when you were trapped inside it for three months with no one but maids and cooks to talk to. 

Meanwhile, Castiel would have killed for a little more time alone this summer. He thought that with Michael graduating and Luke out doing whatever he was that it might have ended up a little more peaceful. He didn’t expect Michael to move back in while he was job hunting, or for his presence to push their parents to breathe down Gabriel’s neck even more about what he was going to do this year. Castiel knows they’re just worried he’s going to end up like Luke, but he also knows that Gabriel resents that and the more their parents push the more insistent Gabriel is that he’s not going to do a damned thing. He isn’t sure if all that has anything to do with Anna’s new rebellious streak, or if it is just that she is starting high school herself, but every time there was a day of peace with Gabriel, it seemed like she took over the chaos. Castiel’s saving grace was Samandriel, and the fact that his parents finally let him drive this year. If he hadn’t had those afternoons taking Samandriel out to the park or to wander around the mall, he doesn’t know that he would have stayed sane the entire summer. 

The bell sounds, cutting off whatever Balthazar had been saying. There’s plenty of noise as everyone shuffles towards their seats. A buzz hums through the room that Castiel doubts will be very common the rest of the term. Even for someone who loves it, starting the day with literature was going to be a chore. At least Mr. Shurley would be suffering alongside them. It’s only the first day and he already looks like he’s only half awake, coffee cup clutched in his hand as he comes in, shutting the door behind him and making his way to the front of the room. Castiel would assume that it’s only because 8:00 is too early for anyone to try to be functioning, but he’s had Mr. Shurley every year and no matter the time of day he seems like he’s struggling with the concept of being awake. His room always smells like coffee and Castiel’s never seen him without a mug within arms length. 

“Alright guys, settle down.” His voice isn’t particularly strong, but it does the trick. It takes a few moments for the whispers and shuffling to settle. No one has taken the seat in front of Balthazar, who stretches out, cat-like, feet propped up on the chair. “I know you’re all excited to start this year. For some of you, these are the last books I’ll ever get you to read.” A laugh rumbles around the room. Despite being a little rough around the edges, Mr. Shurley is generally well liked, if only because he lets his students get away with doing what they want as long as they turn in their work when they’re supposed to. 

He takes a sip from the coffee mug (one that many students theorize might have an extra ingredient or two) before setting it on his desk and turning to the white board. Most of the teachers prefer the newer digital whiteboards, but the originals have been kept up for the holdouts like Mr. Shurley. The marker shrieks as he scrawls across the board in slanting, nearly illegible script. “Wuthering Heights. One of the few classics we’ll recognize to be written by a woman.” A few girls in the class perk up slightly. They weren’t shy about voicing their disdain for the sausage fest that was classic literature. 

“Charlie, Cole, let’s get these passed out.” There're two piles of well-worn copies of the book balancing on the table at the front of the room that they head to, starting around the room while Mr. Shurley turns back to the board. 

“I’ll give you the only one not being held together with duct tape,” Charlie whispers as she comes to Castiel’s desk, grinning as she drops one of the better looking books in front of him. “Gays gotta stick together.” Balthazar lets out an indignant huff when she hands him a much more battered copy, the entire cover obscured by sticky silver tape trying to hold it to the binding.

“So much for gays sticking together,” he complains. 

“We both know you’re not going to read it anyway, so I’m doing you a favor. Now you have an excuse.” Balthazar considers this for a moment before seeming to accept that, sinking back down in his seat and pushing the book to the corner of his desk. 

“Emily Bronte wrote this in 1847. Anyone remember what we call that time period?” Mr. Shurley turns back to the class. Castiel knows, but he doesn’t volunteer often. He learned early on that if he lets his teachers know that he knows the answer they start to turn to him more and more often and it’s terrible on the days when he really doesn’t feel like engaging. A quiet falls over the class, the quietest they’ve been all morning. Mr. Shurley lets the silence hang for a moment, but before he can cave and give them the answer, the door opens. There’s an eerie unison to the way everyone’s head turns at the same time, all eyes on the boy stepping into the room. There’s another beat of silence as he hesitates, throwing a glance around the room. 

“Is this senior lit?” He’s not someone Castiel recognizes. Their school isn’t tiny, but it’s small enough he’s seen just about everyone, and he knows that he would have remembered seeing him before. Despite everyone staring at him, the boy looks remarkably calm. His backpack hangs off one shoulder, over a leather coat that is at least a full size too big for him but manages to put on an air of nonchalance and not look like he’s playing dress-up like it would if Castiel tried to pull off something like that. Their eyes meet as the boy surveys the room again, a bright green that Castiel suddenly finds familiar. 

“If it isn’t, I’m in trouble,” Mr. Shurley responds, drawing the boy’s gaze away from Castiel. “You must be Dean. There’s an open seat right back there.” He points to the chair Balthazar’s feet are propped on with a pointed look. With a heavy sigh Balthazar pulls his feet back, but the look on his face tells Castiel that he’s also intrigued by the new kid. Mr. Shurley hands him - Dean, apparently - one of the remaining books, everyone watching him head towards his seat. “You can all harass him later. Now, has anyone come up with the name of the time period yet? We’ve only discussed three of them so you can at least put up a guess, come on.” 

Castiel knows he’s staring. It’s a bad habit of his, really, and Dean is cute. More than that, though, there’s something about him that stirs a memory in the back of Castiel’s mind. He’s trying to place it when Dean picks up his book, jacket sleeve riding up and revealing a scar curling over the heel to the palm of his hand. Castiel knows that scar, Gabriel has one that is damned near identical. 

The Dean that Castiel remembers is much smaller. A pudgy, round face, but the same sprinkle of freckles across the bridge of his nose. Gabriel was only a year older than Castiel, but when he had his first grade friends over, he felt like the coolest kindergartner getting to hang out with them. He’d sat on the curb, watching Gabriel and Dean line up their bikes, each with a branch in hand. They’d gone out to see a pirate movie for Gabriel’s birthday, and the sword battles had left an impression. Gabriel had informed Castiel that he was too young to play, but he could be the judge, and he got the very exciting job of screaming, “Ready, set, go!” 

There’s a surprising clarity in his memory, watching his brother and Dean racing directly towards each other, brandishing their branches while pedalling furiously. They were just sticks from a tree, they couldn’t be that sharp, they’d all figured. Apparently, at high enough speeds, even a branch could puncture the skin. Castiel abandoned his job as judge to run inside shouting for his mom instead. They’d all gone to the hospital together, considering Gabriel and Dean had managed to impale both their hands on the same branch and nobody wanted to pull it out. 

Sitting in the back seat, Gabriel was wailing next to Castiel, clutching his wrist and crying out every time the car jostled them in the slightest. It made Dean that much more impressive sitting next to him, the few tears he had let drop already dry, trying to tell Gabriel jokes to get him to calm down. Castiel wished he was sitting next to Dean and then immediately felt guilty for that, but Gabriel’s crying was making his head throb. It’d been a relief when they made it to the hospital. Luke and Michael managed to convince their mom to give them money for snacks and Castiel stayed out in the waiting room with them, watching cartoons and crunching through a bag of chips. 

Gabriel emerged an hour later with his hand wrapped in a bandage, excited to tell his brothers about the stitches hidden underneath, so much he didn’t even bother trying to steal the crumbs out of Castiel’s bag. Dean’s parents had come in at some point but Castiel didn’t know who they were until they exited the doors with Dean. He was settled on his mom’s lap next to a tiny baby, his dad pushing the wheelchair. They came over and chatted, Castiel’s mother apologizing profusely for the accident. Cas remembers not being able to look away from Dean’s mom, though. There was something about the look on her face that disturbed him, sent him scuttling over to Michael’s side and hiding behind his leg. There were dark circles around her eyes, cheeks gaunt and bones too prominent, and when the bandana on her head slipped back Castiel didn’t see any hair underneath it. He didn’t understand how Dean could be so happy sitting on her lap. 

He heard that a few weeks later, she had died. They didn’t see much of Dean after that, Gabriel said he only came to school a few times a week before he stopped showing up entirely. Eventually he learned that they had moved. He’d thought about Gabriel’s old friend here and there, but he certainly didn’t expect him to show up at his school. 

“Alright, I want you all to get started on the first chapter,” Mr. Shurley announces, and immediately the room breaks into whispers. He doesn’t appear interested in fighting it today, going to his desk and dragging his coffee closer. Castiel is usually one to ignore everyone else and pick up his book, but curiosity is pressing at him. He clears his throat, gaining Balthazar’s attention as he does. 

“Uh, hey. Dean, right?” He turns around, and another look straight at his face convinces Castiel this has to be the same person. “Dean Winchester?” Dean’s eyes narrow slightly as he examines Castiel’s face before a smile practically explodes across his lips, bringing light to his expression. 

“Oh shit, it’s been ages. I didn’t think anyone would remember me. Castiel, right?” Dean twists around in his seat, not doing much to keep his voice down, but the rest of the class isn’t trying too hard either. 

“Yeah! I didn’t think you’d remember me either,” Castiel admits. He’d expect Dean to remember Gabriel, maybe, they were actually friends, but as far as he could tell he was just the annoying little brother who insisted on hanging out with them. 

“Well don’t be rude. Introduce me to your friend, Cassie,” Balthazar interrupts, leaning his elbows on his desk. 

“Oh, he’s not my friend,” Castiel says quickly. He hasn’t seen Dean in 12 years, he didn’t think he could call him a friend.

“Ouch. My first day and you’re already singling me out, huh?” Castiel flounders, looking for an appropriate answer, but Dean just laughs and shakes his head. “I’m kidding, dude. I used to live around here, I hung out with Gabriel for a little while.” He turns to Balthazar, offering him a warm smile. 

“You used to be in his class, didn’t you? Why are you in ours?” Not until the words are out of his mouth does Castiel realize he probably shouldn’t be asking, it’s none of his business, and again he’s left trying to pull his foot out of his mouth. 

“I was a dumb kid. Still am but they let me go to the next grade now,” Dean answers casually. Castiel’s cheeks go pink and he shakes his head. 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean-” Dean cuts him off, grinning. 

“Hey don’t worry about it. It’s nice to know someone here. And your friend…” He trails off, looking to Balthazar. 

“Oh! Oh, yes, sorry. This is Balthazar. He is my friend,” he clarifies, not wanting to make the same mistake again. Balthazar wouldn’t be as willing to let it go, even if he didn’t take it seriously. Balthazar extends his hand, something that looks to catch Dean by surprise, but he reaches out to meet him anyway, giving his hand a small shake. 

“Balthazar? Damn, your name is even more wild than Castiel. No offense.” Balthazar’s eyes narrow momentarily, like he’s considering if he should take offense, before his expression relaxes. 

“None taken. Nice to meet you, Dean.” Balthazar settles back, propping his chin on his hand. “You’re lucky you’ve got Shurley for literature. I’ve heard that the new lady is a bitch.” Dean snorts the same time Castiel scoffs. 

“Thaz, you’ve never even met her. It’s the first day, how is anyone supposed to know she’s a bitch?” 

“Hey, it seems like this guy is hard to beat.” Dean looks back at the desk where Mr. Shurley is settled, staring intently at his computer screen with his fingers hovering over the keyboard. “Does he always let people screw around in class like this?” 

“Oh absolutely.” Balthazar had a goal of distracting Castiel as much as possible during class, so it seemed, and he’s grinning like he may have just found someone to assist him with that. 

“Sweet. Hey, what other classes do you guys have? You can give me all the dirt.” Castiel knows that Balthazar is all too happy to gossip, he’s heard stories about all of their teachers at least once and Balthazar doesn’t seem too bothered by what’s true as long as it’s a good tale. Castiel watches the two of them, letting the words become nothing more than a soft buzz in his ears. 

Maybe this year would feel different after all.


	2. Chapter 2

Weightless. That’s the best way to describe how Dean feels on the ice. It’s the closest he’ll ever get to flying, and the closest he ever wants to get. Flying with his feet still planted on the ground, it’s as good as it gets. 

He was surprised when he heard that Lawrence High has a hockey team. He tells himself it’s one of the reasons he agreed to move back out here, like he had any real choice. He’d loved his team back in South Dakota, they were probably the only reason that he kept his grades up to a somewhat decent level. That and the fact that his uncle would have ripped him a new one if he’d failed. Thinking about Bobby makes his chest go uncomfortably tight. The puck zipping towards him almost slips by the toe of his blade, but he manages to pull himself out of his thoughts, snagging it at the last second and pulling it in line, starting towards the goal. He doesn’t need to do anything risky to show off, but he decides to go for it anyway, shooting right as he crosses the red line at the center. One of the defensemen moves towards it, but they’re too slow. The goalie looks surprised by the sudden appearance of the puck as it slides right by his foot. Dean grins under his helmet, turning and heading back across the rink. There’s the satisfying sound of ice being shredded under his feet as he comes to an abrupt stop at the wall, looking up at the coach. 

“Alright, Winchester, not bad. We’ll put you in for our first scrimmage, see how you do.” Jody Mill’s voice is sharp and face stern, hair cropped so short Dean could imagine people trying to make jokes about it if she didn’t look like she’d bring a hockey stick down on their knuckles just for thinking it. Despite the intimidating air she carries, she’s been nothing but nice to Dean when he came around asking about the team. “Center, if you think you can handle it.” 

“Oh, it’s going to be so handled,” Dean promises, reaching up to tug his helmet off, wiping an arm across his forehead. He’s not stupid, but most of school doesn’t really hold his interest. Hockey is one place where he can feel proud of what he does. Even though he snuck a goal in fairly easily, this team seems decent, especially from the YouTube videos he’d watched of their games. They’d made it to regionals last year, something Dean’s hoping they’ll get to do again.

“We’ll see about that. Tuesday, 3:15, don’t be late.” She looks down at Dean, corner of her mouth pulling up just enough to take the edge off her words. “Lafitte, get your ass to the goal!” Just like that she’s shouting over Dean’s head, pointing at a burly boy on the bench. “You wouldn’t have made that shot if he was out there,” she adds, looking back at Dean. “Better make sure you’re ready on Tuesday.” Dean nods and heads off the ice, dropping himself on the bench. He doesn’t have to stay, but he’s curious about the rest of the tryouts, and he might as well see what he’ll be working with. 

The new goalie takes his place, adjusting the mask over his face. He’s good at taking up space, filling the net. “Fitzgerald?” The coach glances around and a thin boy comes rushing past Dean, nearly tripping over his skates as he steps onto the ice. Everyone else trying out today is a freshman, and this kid looks it. Dean watches dubiously as he makes his way to the center of the ice, looking back uncertainly. “Cone drill first, let’s go!” The boy steadies himself, clutching his stick in hand. Dean’s pretty sure he’s going to tip over the first turn, but he’s surprised. Once he starts moving, he’s  _ fast _ . His agility and control don’t quite line up with the nervous boy standing there only a few seconds ago, and it makes Dean beam. He gets it, there’s something different about being out there and it’s exciting to see someone else feeling it too. 

He’s decent in the shooting drills too, though Dean sees what the coach was saying about this goalie. There’s no way that shot would have made it past him, and this kid only manages to sneak one in with a tricky little maneuver putting his speed to work for him. Coach Mills tells him to come back Tuesday as well, and he’s got a huge grin when he tugs off his helmet and comes to join Dean on the bench. 

“Nice job out there.” The boy’s smile becomes impossibly wider. He smooths a hand over his hair, flattening it to his forehead. 

“You too. Winchester, is that like Sam Winchester?” The boy tugs a water bottle from his backpack, taking a gulp, eyes flickering back out onto the rink as the next name is called.

“Like Sam Winchester. You a freshman?” It feels like forever since he’s gone to the same school as Sam. Most of his friends knew his brother anyway, Dean’s too proud of the little snot to shut up about him, but it’s different knowing people who have class with him. 

“I am. Garth Fitzgerald the fourth,” he introduces. “Sam’s in most of my classes. He told me you just moved here from South Dakota. Sort of sucks to move your senior year, doesn’t it? I heard them talking about how you’re the only senior trying out because everyone else already figured out if they like hockey or not. Why’d you move?” Garth spits out all six sentences without taking a breath. No wonder he’d had so much speed out there, an undercurrent of energy with no apparent shame in asking questions. 

“Dean Winchester, the first, I guess.” Dean’s never met someone who was ‘the fourth’ of anything, or if he had they’d never pointed it out. “If I told you why we moved, I’d have to kill you.” Garth pales slightly, looking to Dean and studying his expression for a moment before bursting out laughing. 

“No one has ever said that to me, I thought that was something that was stuck in the movies!” Dean laughs, relieved that Garth seems to accept his answer and move on. “How long have you been playing hockey? You’re really good. I used to figure skate, but that’s not how I wanted to start high school. No one’s ever going to think I’m cool but at least I might make some more friends this way, and it’s  _ fun. _ ” 

“I’ve been playing since I was a kid. Used to have a pond by our house that froze over every winter. We got the authentic ice experience.” Thinking of the pond, their old home, makes Dean’s chest squeeze again. They’ve only been a way for a few weeks but he misses it so much. He misses Bobby so much. Waking up and cooking breakfast with him, helping him out on weekends fixing up one of the many junkers piled up in the back lot, even being outvoted when Sam wanted to watch a documentary and Bobby agreed and Dean complained and fell asleep halfway through. It wasn’t perfect by any stretch of the imagination, but it’d been home. 

Suddenly, Brian Jones' muffled voice sounds from the pile of bags dumped behind the bench, pulling Dean from his thoughts. “Oh shit, that’s me.” Dean swings around to shuffle through the bags, digging his phone from the front pocket once he finds his. He doesn’t recognize the number on the screen, but not a lot of people would be calling him. Frowning, he answers the call. “Hello?” 

“Um… Dean?” The voice on the other end of the line is quiet and small. 

“Adam? What’s up, buddy?” Something happens on the rink behind him that he doesn’t see, but makes half the team shout and laugh and Garth whoop next to him, drowning out whatever Adam says. Dean presses the phone to his ear harder, plugging the other. “What?” 

“Are you gonna pick me up?” Adam’s voice has a bit of a waver to it, like he’s on the verge of tears. 

“What? Dad said he was, I had tryouts today.” A wave of frustration washes over Dean. He knows he told his dad about this, but he should have made sure to tell him again when he didn’t have a beer in his hand. 

“I called him but he didn’t answer,” Adam replies, followed by an incredibly loud sniffle. “Mom’s at work,” he adds thickly.

“Okay, okay. I’ve got to change really quick and then I’ll be right there. Are you with a teacher?” Dean cradles the phone against his shoulder, starting to untie his skates. 

“Yeah. Mrs. Jones is here, she let me use the phone in the office.” Adam sniffles again, the noise grating and distorted through the speaker shoved too hard against Dean’s ear. 

“Tell her I’ll be there in ten minutes, okay?” Dean kicks off the first skate, yanking at the laces for the second. 

“Okay.” Dean can hear Adam’s small voice echo the words before he speaks into the phone again. “She said she’s gonna stay with me.” 

“Perfect. I’ll see you soon bud.” Hanging up, Dean kicks off the other skate, grabbing them and pushing himself up off the bench. 

“Everything alright?” Garth looks genuinely concerned when Dean looks back at him, which is awfully sweet for someone he’s only known for a few minutes. 

“Yeah, just gotta go pick up my little brother. Scrimmage on Tuesday though, yeah? See ya.” Dean waves, slinging his bag over his shoulder and giving Garth a thin smile before rushing into the locker room. 

Of course his dad would forget he was supposed to pick up Adam today. Kate kept trying to tell them that he was doing good, that he didn’t drink so much, that things were different, but Dean wasn’t seeing it. He just used this locker less than an hour ago but standing here he can’t remember the combination, mind too busy fighting tides of anger. He pulls out his phone again, searching through his notes where he’d jotted it down earlier.

The worst part is how bad Dean wants his dad to be doing better. The way Adam talks about him, Dean knows that he had to have changed for at least a while. Dean still has good memories of John too, though they’re distant and faded, glimpses of his life before his mom died. The last few years he thought he might be seeing it too. John would actually come visit for birthdays and holidays. Bobby had stopped grumbling so much about how much the boys were eating, which made Dean suspect his dad might have actually been sending the money he always told Bobby he would. 

Kate was the one that made the call after Bobby had his stroke. Dean was sure he could take care of them, he was 18, he could get a job and they could stay and help take care of Bobby. She had insisted, saying Dean couldn’t drop out and that they didn’t need to be adding any stress to Bobby’s life. John’s doing so much better, she’d said, and it would do him good to be with all his kids. Seeing Bobby in a wheelchair reminded Dean too much of the last few months with his mom, and that unnerving feeling along with Kate’s reassurance finally pushed him to accept. He’d had himself convinced it was what their dad wanted too, up until the moment they’d shown up and John opened the door. The look on his face told Dean everything he needed to know about his opinion. 

Dean changes quickly, shoving his sweater and pants into the corner of the locker and tugging on the jeans and t-shirt he’d worn the rest of the day. His skates go in last, and he’s shutting his locker with a bang, pulling on his boots without bothering to tie the laces and hurrying out to his car. 

The car was a gift from Bobby for his 18th birthday, but Dean had helped him work on it for years. He’d made it no secret that it was his favorite car they’d worked on, not trying to get anything but just to share his appreciation with someone else who got it. They’d finally gotten her running two days before Dean’s birthday, Bobby had sent him out to take her on her first test drive. When Dean circled back, Bobby just smiled and told him not to lose his keys. 

He doesn’t take the time to appreciate the car like he often does as he runs up to it, tossing his bag into the back seat and climbing in. He appreciates the familiar rumble of the engine starting up under him. The radio is on low, Sam always turns it down in the mornings, but he’s not here now so Dean cranks it up and takes off towards the elementary school. 

Adam and Mrs. Jones are sitting on a bench together outside the school when Dean pulls up. He stops at the curb, leaving the engine idling while he climbs out. Adam jumps up from the bench and comes running over, hugging Dean’s legs as he crashes into him. “Thanks for staying with him. Bit of a mix up at home, sorry about that,” Dean calls out, reaching down to give Adam a squeeze against his side. 

“No problem, Adam had some wonderful stories for me.” Mrs. Jones smiles kindly. It’s the first time this has happened, and Dean knows the teachers have an incredible patience for things like this. He’d spent his share of afternoons sitting outside waiting for John to show up, before John just stopped bringing him to school altogether. Dean offers her a small smile, waving before he turns back to the car and opens the door for Adam. 

“How come dad forgot about me?” Adam has to shout to be heard over the radio, so Dean turns it back down. 

“I’m sure he just got busy, that’s all. Hey, Sam should be done with his meeting soon, what do you say we go pick him up and get some ice cream?” Distraction is always best in Dean’s book, and it works like a charm. 

“Can we go to Andy’s?” Dean knew that would be Adam’s choice. He’s only lived here a few months but he knows that every time they pass the shop Adam starts begging to get something. 

“Of course. I’ll even let you get the one with the fudge core.” He doesn’t understand Kate’s aversion to sugar, or why she thinks that trying to choose a healthier variety of custard toppings made a difference when they are indulging. It’s helped him win over Adam, even if he does feel a little bad about it sometimes. Dean pulls out his phone again, telling Sam they’re on their way before they head to him. Adam is good company, telling Dean about his day. He seems to have gotten over the after school incident entirely, much more intent on explaining every detail about rainforest frogs that they’re studying for the science portion of their class. 

Much like Adam was, Sam is sitting outside when Dean pulls up. Adam scoots to the middle of the bench seat, making room for Sam. “We’re getting ice cream!” he exclaims as soon as Sam opens the door. He’d hit a growth spurt recently, earning half an inch on Dean, which definitely didn’t bother him at all. He looks a little awkward as he folds himself into the seat, but for his adolescent uncertainty with his body he still possesses wisdom beyond his years. He looks at Adam’s backpack, glances at Dean, and he knows his brother is berating their dad in his head. Neither of them voice it, though, for Adam’s sake. He still seems to idolize their father and they didn’t want to ruin that for him. 

“Andy’s?” Sam questions, settling his own bag between his legs. 

“Dean’s gonna let me get fudge!” Adam exclaims, beaming. Dean doesn’t miss the look Sam gives him over Adam’s head, but he chooses to ignore it, shifting gears and starting down the road again. 

“How was the meeting, Sammy?” Dean reaches to turn the radio down again, letting it become a soft hum in the background. As much as he loves his music, he loves his brothers more. They get to talk at home too, but he likes taking advantage of the time they have to themselves too. It still feels weird having John and Kate listening to their conversations, Dean’s always worried they’re going to say something that’s wrong somehow. 

“Good. We’re going to start having mock debates next week. I’ve got a lot of research to do this weekend.” Sam sighs and slouches back in the seat a little more, running a hand through his hair. It had been getting long, but he’d let Dean take scissors to it before school started. Still, it’s growing fast, already hanging over his ears again. 

“I don’t understand why you would volunteer for extra work,” Dean says, shaking his head. He gives Sam a hard time about his tenacity in school, but he really admires it. Sam is smart. Dean already knows his brother is going to change the world someday. 

“Some of us like learning, Dean. Besides, I’m in high school now. Gotta start beefing up those college applications.” Dean makes a face, shaking his head. They’re already starting to push it in his classes even though the year just started. He has no fucking clue what he’s doing after this year, and he’s doing his best not to think about it. “There’s someone from your class in it. Castiel, I think?” 

“Cas is in debate?” It’s a surprise initially, but after considering it for a moment it makes sense. Castiel does seem like a little bit of a nerd. He’s the only one Dean’s actually seen reading in literature class, and last week he let Dean copy the last few problems of his math homework and they were all right. “He’s the one I was telling you about, Gabe’s brother.” 

“Gabe of the infamous hand scar incident?” Sam questions, raising an eyebrow. 

“The one and only.” 

“Huh. I always imagined they’d be… crazier.” Dean lets out a short laugh, shaking his head.

“Well, Cas isn’t like Gabriel. Even back then he was quieter.” Always following them around, eyes just as big and blue and curious as they are now. Dean remembers Castiel content to sit and watch them play for hours, drinking in everything they did. He still does that, observes more than he involves himself. It’s kind of nice, though. Most of Dean’s friends are boisterous and bullheaded, it’s refreshing to have someone different around. 

“Don’t know why he’d want to hang around with someone like you then,” Sam shoots back. 

“That’s not nice,” Adam pipes up from between them, frowning. They’d grown up constantly poking fun at each other, something Adam apparently hadn’t gotten a lot of in the last seven years. He’s always worried when they tease each other like this, but it’s kind of precious. He’s a sweet kid. Dean still gets the occasional pang of envy knowing that John was so settled into his new family life for years while he left Sam and Dean alone, but that’s not Adam’s fault. 

“Sam’s just mad he hasn’t heard all your cool frog facts.” That’s all it takes to launch Adam into another spiel. Sam can actually engage, feeding Adam more facts as they go. It keeps them busy until they get to the drive through, and then Adam’s mouth is too full of fudge to keep up conversation. Dean gets the same, handing it to Sam along with his sundae. Just before they pull out onto the street, Dean’s phone buzzes in his pocket. He digs it out, glancing at it before handing it over to Sam. 

“It’s Kate, let her know we’ll be home soon.” Bobby had rarely checked up on them. It wasn’t that he didn’t care, but he had an entire business to run and papers to write and review, he was a busy man. Dean’s not used to having people check up on him, and he can’t help but feel a little irritated by it. It’s easy to brush away, though, Adam with a ring of chocolate around his mouth already and Sam reaching over to turn up the radio and bopping his head along with the song, picking the strawberries off the top of his sundae. By the time they get home, all three of them are grinning. Kate tells them off for ruining their dinner, but she still makes them popcorn an hour later when they all sit on the couch to watch Star Wars together. Dean feels a little glimmer of hope again, that this might be his new normal. 


	3. Chapter 3

“You let Michael stay here without paying rent.” 

“Michael just graduated, we’re just helping him along.” 

“I just graduated, I don’t understand why it’s different. Michael is older, you should be on his ass instead of mine.” 

“Language, Gabriel.” Castiel glances between his brother and his mom, wiggling his fork between his fingers. This is an argument they’ve all heard before. It started when Michael moved in and seemed to happen more and more often with each passing day. 

“What? I’m enough of an adult I have to get a job, but not enough to say ass?” 

“Gabriel!” Their mother gives him a sharp look. “You’re not the only one here. Don’t you care about what Samandriel has to hear?” Personally Castiel thinks if his mom really cared about what Samandriel has to hear she wouldn’t have started this conversation over dinner, but he’s not going to get involved, scooping up a forkful of pasta and shoving it in his mouth. 

“Well he’s already heard ass now, what does it matter if he hears it again?” Anna pipes up. These arguments make Castiel so uncomfortable he’d assume everyone else felt the same, but Anna seems to enjoy instigating more. 

“Look what kind of example you’re setting. Your sister used to be so sweet.” Their mother is practically moaning it, falling back on her typical ‘woe is me’ act that she always adopted after she started a fight. “You know, that’s when we could tell Luke was going off the rails. Started cursing, disrespecting us all the time.” Castiel glances over at Gabriel, tension setting into his brother quickly. It always did when they brought up Luke. 

“Right, Luke was real worried about making your life miserable when he was overdosing,” Gabriel snaps, sitting back in his chair with his arms folded over his chest. 

“Luke didn’t have it any harder than the rest of us. We grew up together and I’ve never done any of that.” Maybe Castiel is the only one who doesn’t want to make this fight worse. Anna seems to do it just for the sake of argument, but Michael can’t seem to stop from pointing out what a poster child he is every opportunity he gets. Castiel doesn’t remember him always being so insufferable. A little stuck up, sure, and he was always ‘the good twin,’ but after college he seemed to reach a new level. Castiel suspects it’s guilt, he was meant to keep an eye on Luke when they left. That wasn’t fair, he couldn’t control Luke, but he doesn’t do a lot to garner Castiel’s sympathy with interjections like this. 

“We’ve provided so much for you. It’s still not too late to apply to the community college. If you would just get your education…” Their mother lets out another long-suffering sigh. 

“If I would just waste my time going to classes I don’t care about? Not all of us want to be desk servants.” 

“Business is a perfectly acceptable and profitable avenue to pursue,” Michael defends quickly. Anna snorts into her plate, not bothering to look apologetic when Michael glares at her. 

“Well, I don’t want you to end up out on the streets. You’re going to turn out just like Luke if you keep it up.” Gabriel’s face goes red, fist curling around his fork. 

“So you could disown me too?” Silence falls over the table, tension hanging thick in the air. Their mother is looking just as worked up as Gabriel, he has to get that stubbornness from someone. 

“We have not disowned your brother. He is welcome to return once he has sorted himself out.” Gabriel scoffs, rolling his eyes. 

“No way his family could help with that, huh? He makes one mistake and we kick him to the curb and tell him he’s gotta fend for himself.” Castiel drops his fork next to his plate. Samandriel is sitting next to him, twirling the same piece of spaghetti around his fork he has been since this argument has started. 

“Can we be excused?” Castiel’s appetite is fading rapidly, he’d rather wait for this fight to be done and sneak down for a late night bowl of cereal . He’s pretty certain Samandriel isn’t enjoying himself, either. His question falls on deaf ears, though, his mother too focused on responding to Gabriel. 

“You know it was more than that. Why are you so preoccupied with defending Luke? What has he ever done for you?” Castiel glances between them again, considering speaking up again but he thinks they might be able to get away with leaving without being noticed. 

“C’mon, Mandy, let’s go watch something,” he mutters, scooting his chair back. The relief is palpable on Samandriel’s face as he slides off his chair and starts towards the living room. Gabriel’s voice is muffled as the dining room door swings shut behind them, anger evident in the volume of it but the words are indistinguishable. 

“Can we play Mario Kart?” Samandriel questions, throwing a glance back at the door before looking up at Castiel. 

“Absolutely, I’ll get it ready.” It’s a very welcome distraction. Castiel turns the television on, turning up the volume and grabbing their controllers. The lively music drowns out the sounds of the other’s voices, a little too loud for comfort but it’s better than listening to the dining room. He joins Samandriel on the couch, folding his legs in front of him and resting the controller up on his knees. 

“I want to be DK this time,” Samandriel states, scrolling to him. Already there’s a smile creeping onto his face, and Castiel is sure he’s going to be giggling by the time they’re picking their karts. He was endlessly entertained by the mismatched proportions of a gorilla in a go-kart. Castiel is happy to let Samandriel’s innocence ease the tension of the evening. Sure enough, a minute later and he’s snickering into his hands while he clicks through his options. 

Castiel lets Samandriel pick the lineup of courses, only sneaking in to add his favorite, Bowser’s Castle. Despite being ten years younger than him, Samandriel regularly beats Castiel when they play. Castiel thinks he gets too distracted, so absorbed with all the little details in the background that he doesn’t realize he’s being hit with a shell until the controller is vibrating his hands. They make it through a grand total of one race before the voices on the other side of the door start to creep over the music. Castiel grabs the remote and turns the volume up again, knowing his mom would tell him off for it being so loud when she came out, but it’s worth it to be able to continue trying to ignore them. 

The next course is Rainbow Road, Samandriel’s favorite, if only because he likes laughing at Castiel for how often he drives off the edge. He’s infamous for coming in last here, but the shouting from the dining room has him doing even worse than usual. Samandriel is unusually quiet next to him, and Donkey Kong careens off the side of the road as Gabriel’s voice bursts from the other room. Video game music and the walls aren’t enough to muffle a very clear, “Fuck you.” Only a second later the door is being slammed open and Gabriel storms through, ripping open the front door and flinging it back so it bangs against the wall. The energetic soundtrack to Rainbow Road doesn’t fit with the heavy mood in the air, feeling almost mocking as it continues to bounce along while Samandriel looks up at him with round eyes. 

Castiel reaches for the remote again, turning off the television and pushing himself up, glancing out the window. There’s a bang as Gabriel slams his car door, peeling out of the driveway. Castiel frowns as he stares after him, flinching when Samandriel grabs his wrist. “Is Gabe coming back?” he asks uncertainly. 

“Of course.” Castiel forces himself to sound more confident than he feels, looking down the road where Gabriel’s car is rapidly disappearing. It wasn’t uncommon for Gabriel to need some space after an argument, but they’d been getting worse lately and Castiel has never heard him yell at their mom like this before. He turns and glances back at the dining room again. Michael is hovering by their mother, who looks the closest to tears Castiel has seen in a while. 

“Let’s go upstairs. We can do something else in my room.” He doesn’t know that he really feels like playing anything, or that Samandriel will either, but they’d find something to distract them for a little while. 

Two hours later and Samandriel is asleep on Castiel’s bed, Avatar playing quietly on his laptop next to him. Castiel had only been half watching, checking his phone every few minutes to see if Gabriel had said anything. It’s dark out now, and he’s getting more and more worried as the night goes on. Their mom hadn’t even bothered to come check on them, though their dad had stopped by to say goodnight when he got in from work. 

A slightly melodramatic snapchat finally tips Castiel off to where Gabriel is. It’s a picture of the moon reflecting off a lake, a ratty field beyond it, with a very eloquent ‘fuck everything’ smack in the middle. Castiel recognizes that lake, it’s somewhere they used to go all the time. Gabriel still isn’t answering his texts, and Castiel doesn’t really like the idea of him out there by himself, so he draws the blankets over Samandriel, flicks off the light, and heads out quietly. 

He hasn’t done a lot of night driving yet, but the lake isn’t far away. He’s careful driving there, checking in his mirrors more often than he needs, part of him feeling like he could be in trouble just for being out on his own this late. Even though he’s pretty confident this is where Gabriel is, there’s a wave of relief seeing his car in the little parking lot out front. 

The lake is, technically, off limits. Luke had been the one to show them the hole in the fence, and by the time it was patched they were big enough to just climb over it. There’s a lovely little trail around the lake, and a park set off in a patch of grass, but they’d liked to sneak out comic books they weren’t supposed to have at home and climb into the black willow hanging over the bank, their own little fortress. It’s been a while since Castiel’s been here, wincing as he drops over the side of the fence and lands on his ankle a little too hard. He rotates his foot in a few small circles before heading off towards the tree. 

Gabriel doesn’t even look up as Castiel pushes by a few hanging branches, climbing up onto one of the trunks that they’d always used as a seat, settling down with his feet dangling. Gabriel remains silent for a few long moments, gazing out over the water. 

“Luke hasn’t answered me in a week.” He’s been crying, Castiel can tell, but his cheeks are dry for now. “I’m worried about him, and all Mom can do is bitch about me finding a job. It’s like she doesn’t even care if he’s alive.” He sighs, finally looking over to Castiel. “Every time I try to say anything about it, she just starts telling me that I don’t need to end up like him. She’s just...given up.” 

Even though Michael and Luke are twins, Gabriel had always been closest to him. They both had a penchant for mischief, something that made them bump heads from time to time, but they’d ultimately bonded over it and their mutual enjoyment of teasing Michael. Gabriel had taken it hardest when Luke overdosed, angry that his parents would take them to Florida to visit him in the hospital. Michael stayed out there at college, sending brief updates about Luke’s condition, until he’d just sort of slipped off the map. Castiel talked to him from time to time, answered messages when he got them, but he knows Gabriel keeps the most consistent contact. 

“Didn’t you tell me he was looking at a rehab center? Maybe he’s there, they didn’t let him have his phone,” Castiel suggests. Gabriel sighs, rubbing at his eyes with the heel of his palms. 

“I guess, but he’s always told me before he went in. I don’t know, Cas.” Gabriel goes quiet again, looking back out at the water. Castiel does the same, letting the crickets take over for the moment. 

“Do you remember that time he dared you to go skinny dipping and stole all your clothes?” he asks, finally breaking the silence. It has the desired effect, Gabriel’s lips quirking up at the corners.

“Hard to forget. I thought I was going to have to walk all the way home like that. Mom would have killed me.” He falls silent again for a moment. So much quiet is uncharacteristic of Gabriel, but Castiel can only imagine how drained he’s feeling right now. “Don’t tell anyone, but I… I did apply somewhere.” His voice is soft, as close to timid as Castiel’s ever heard it. 

“A job?” Gabriel shakes his head, glancing at Castiel. 

“School. A culinary school, which I know doesn’t really count, but…” 

“It counts, Gabe. If that’s what you want to do, it counts more than any other school would.” Castiel purses his lips, considering his next question before he voices it. “Why haven’t you told Mom?” Even if she wouldn’t be thrilled with his choice, Castiel thinks it would help dampen the fights they’ve been having. 

“I don’t know. I just… Every time I think about it she says some stupid shit about Luke again. I feel like I’m the only one standing up for him sometimes. If I give in, who’s left?” Castiel doesn’t think Gabriel means it as a jab, but there’s a pang of guilt, like Castiel has let his brothers down by choosing to stay quiet. “I know I shouldn’t let her get to me like that. I just turned in my application this week and not hearing from Luke, I just blew up.” 

“Well, when we go home, you have to tell Samandriel you’re back. He was worried about you, he even gave up on Rainbow Road.” Gabriel smiles a little at that, stretching his hands up over his head. 

“Guess I can’t stay out here all night, can I?” He looks out over the water one more time before he seems to decide to move, starting to climb back down. Castiel follows, dropping on the ground next to him, tugged over by his brother’s arm coming around his shoulder. “Thanks, Cas.” Castiel nods, wrapping his arm around Gabriel’s waist to give a quick squeeze before they pull apart, heading back towards the fence. 

When they get home, Samandriel is still asleep in Castiel’s bed. Gabriel wakes him up to say hello, laughing at Samandriel squinting in confusion up at him, reaching a small hand out of the blankets to pat Gabriel’s cheek before he turns over and is back asleep just like that. Castiel closes his laptop, dead now anyway, setting it on his desk and climbing into the bed, doing his best not to disturb Samandriel as he does. He gets in one final blurry glance at the clock, unhappy with the calculation he tries to do to see how much sleep he might get, before he is out like a light. 

***

The file box Sam drops on the desk makes a resounding thud, shaking the legs of the desk. “This is terrible for the environment, I don’t see why we can’t use electronic resources,” he complains. 

“The judges don’t know enough about technology to stop everyone from cheating, they’re afraid of us.” Kevin opens the box, starting to stack the papers spread in front of him into a folder. “I’m still working on the guide, but everything in this one is summarized and organized by author.” 

“I didn’t think you could get any worse, but with Sam, you guys are going to destroy everyone.” Charlie lugs a similar box up in front of her, peeking inside and making a face. “We have folders, does that count as organized?” 

“Not if the papers aren’t in them,” Sam points out, grinning. Considering Castiel and Charlie are both seniors, Castiel would like to think they’d be some of the most put together, but Kevin and Sam are kicking their asses. Kevin has a year under his belt already, and he’d impressed everyone, taking home the award for most successful freshman at the end of the year. Castiel suspects Sam has a similar prize in his future, especially with Kevin coaching him. 

“Hey, we’ve got it split into negative and affirmative at least.” Charlie lifts the lid again, looking in at the mess inside. “Well, mostly.” Castiel isn’t sure why he thought Charlie should be in charge of the initial organization, they’d been policy debate partners every year so far and as smart as Charlie is, organization isn’t her strong suit. He doesn’t feel like taking it on today though, his eyes are scratchy and he had a headache creep in halfway through the day, making every hour drag longer than the last. He’s had the same pile of papers in front of him the entire time and managed to get through one entire page. 

“They’re going to put us up against you two for the mock again,” he says, sweeping everything together and dropping it into the box, on top of a folder that’s supposed to be hanging but is instead laying at the bottom with most of the others. They’d all been prepping together, but Castiel would be willing to bet Sam and Kevin were going to knock them out. It’s the last mock before their official tournaments began. They usually did pretty well, they’d even made it to the finals once, but Castiel isn’t feeling terribly confident this time, especially looking over at the variety of colors and sticky notes and outlines Sam and Kevin are carefully packing into their files. 

“Hey, last time we won,” Charlie points out, bumping Castiel with her elbow. “We’re just better procrastinators than them.” She has a point, they’d made a habit of getting everything together at the last possible moment but sometimes it worked out for them. 

“You got lucky last time. Weren’t you just saying we’re going to crush you?” Sam smirks, chest puffing out a little. “As a matter of fact, I think-” He’s cut off before he can finish, quickly shutting his mouth and sinking back in his chair. 

“I have the brackets for next week.” Eileen approaches the desk, handing both teams a sheet of paper. Castiel likes her, she’s only a sophomore but she was voted in as secretary, a heavy job for a group that depended on so many physical prints. She isn’t a fan of the policy debates; she’d told them that everyone looked down too much for her to read their lips, but she is a pro when it comes to the oratory rounds. Castiel has noticed that every time she comes around Sam clams up, face going red, and he is hard pressed to say anything until she leaves but he always sticks around to watch her speeches. 

“Thanks, Eileen. We were just trying to guess who we’d be up against,” Charlie announces. Castiel leans over to look at the sheet, unsurprised to see that they were right. “Kevin and Sam, right? They’re going to win, they’re doing great, aren’t they?” Charlie looks over at Sam with a knowing grin, watching his face go a shade redder as he gives a stiff nod of his head. Castiel can’t tell if Eileen is unaware or just nice enough not to tease Sam about it, giving them a wide smile. 

“We’re bringing back trophies for sure this year. See you guys next week.” She heads off to the next table to finish passing out the brackets, while Charlie turns her attention on Sam. 

“She thinks you’re going to bring home a trophy,” Charlie sings, reaching out to poke Sam’s cheek. He frowns at her, swatting at her hand. 

“I hate you,” he says seriously, shoving the last folder in his box and snapping it closed. Charlie just laughs, pushing herself up. Castiel stretches before he does the same, grabbing his backpack and heading with the other three towards the door. 

“You probably are going to get a trophy,” Castiel comments as they head down the hall. “Kevin did it last year, there’s a reason he decided to pair up with you.” 

“I don’t like losing,” Kevin adds. “I picked strategically.” 

“Thanks, Kevin, I’m glad we’re friends too.” There’s a lot of differences between Sam and Dean, but sometimes Sam’s sarcasm reminds Castiel of the other. He has to imagine that Sam had to develop a smart wit to keep up with Dean, he always has something to say. 

They break apart as they head out to the parking lot. Castiel is only a few spots away from Dean’s car, he had quickly learned what it looked like. It’s easy to find, and if he can get away with it he likes to park close, but Anna complains if he spends too much time looking for a spot. Dean is leaning against the side of it today, waving at Sam and Castiel as they approach. He’s fresh from practice, and he must’ve been working hard today. His hair still looks damp, sticking up in odd directions in some places and plastered to his head in others. He’s usually in jeans, but today he’s got on a pair of sweats with ‘Lawrence High’ climbing up the leg. Castiel’s throat goes dry as they approach, trying not to be too obvious in sweeping his gaze over Dean again. His brain has felt on the edge of short circuiting all day as it is, and for a second he wonders if he’s just dreaming that Dean is there looking extraordinarily attractive and he’s going to wake up in class and have to drag himself through the rest of the day again. 

“Hey!” Dean pushes himself away from the side of the car. “How was nerd practice?” 

“Very original,” Sam replies dryly, pulling open the back door to throw his bag into the back seat. “How was jock practice?” 

“You can’t steal my jokes, Sammy, that’s lame.” Dean stretches his arms over his head, and Castiel looks away quickly, focusing instead on digging his keys out of the pocket of his backpack. Dean’s his friend, he doesn’t need to be a creep. He can have a friend who is cute and keep it in his pants. “Jody said we’re going to have to start running practice later, we need the extra time to run plays now. Looks like you’re going to have to come sit at jock practice.” 

“Can’t Dad pick me up? I have to stay late every other day for soccer, this is my only night to catch up on reading,” Sam complains. Dean gives him a pointed look that must answer Sam’s question because he sighs heavily, leaning against the door to shut it. 

“I could give you a ride.” Castiel turns to look at them again, Dean’s eyebrows lifting in surprise. 

“Nah, we couldn’t ask you to do that.” 

“You’re not asking, I’m offering. We get out at the same time, I’ve got to drive home anyway. It’d be easy.” Dean hums, raking his fingers through his hair, dragging a few more pieces out of their resting place to stick up in odd configurations, which Castiel pointedly ignores.

“If it wouldn’t be a problem…” he finally laments, Sam scoffing loudly next to him. 

“I’m not a problem. Thanks Cas, just ignore Dean, he doesn’t know how to take help.” It’s Dean’s turn to scoff, shoving Sam’s shoulder before his brother can climb in the car. 

“I owe you one.” Castiel smiles thinly, trying not to think too hard about that. Not being creepy, that’s his goal here.

“I promise, it’s no big deal. I’ll see you tomorrow.” He finally gets his door open, tossing his bag into the passenger seat. 

“See you tomorrow,” Dean replies, giving him a grin that makes Castiel’s heart stutter in his chest. Castiel climbs into his car, watching Dean do the same, starting the engine and smacking Sam’s hand away from the radio. He stares after them as they drive away, engine rumbling along loudly down the street before he sighs heavily and drops his forehead to the steering wheel. He’s just tired, he had a long day, and he needs some rest. Next time he sees Dean, he’ll be feeling better, and he’s not going to spend the entire time checking him out. 

When he thinks about how Dean looked in those sweats the entire drive home, he convinces himself it’s just to get it all out now. When he falls asleep thinking about Dean’s freckled cheeks and bright green eyes, he tells himself he’s just in a weird mood. 

By the next morning, he almost believes himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For clarity, Luke is meant to be Lucifer, I just cannot fathom someone actually naming their human child Lucifer, especially if they're going with a whole handful of other biblical names that are strictly angelic. 
> 
> This AU is becoming so AU I don't know if it even counts any more but I hope y'all are enjoying reading it as much as I'm enjoying writing it!!


	4. Chapter 4

Adam stands in the doorway, arms folded across his chest and bottom lip pouting out while he watches Dean and Sam put their shoes on. “Adam, I told you that you wouldn’t like it, it’s going to be scary.” 

“If it’s scary why are you going?” He’s been tailing them all afternoon, begging to get to go along. Dean’s pretty sure just walking up to a haunted house would be too much for Adam, the actors who wander around outside would be enough to get to him. 

“It’s fun when you’re older. I promise we’ll go do something next weekend, okay?” They’re lucky, Adam went from being an only child to having two older brothers basically overnight. He could be acting out, unhappy splitting his parent’s attention, but instead he tries to spend as much time with Dean and Sam as he can. Dean can understand, Kate works long hours as a nurse and John has only been here the last three years, so Adam’s spent a lot of time with babysitters, having the same group of people around consistently is probably nice. 

“Don’t forget, we’re building a rocket together tomorrow, too.” Adam’s face lightens at that, try as he might to keep pouting. Sam has moved into the position of big brother pretty damned well, too, and Dean likes to think it’s because he’s had a really good example. 

“I expect you to be back before 11,” John calls, looking over the back of his recliner. He’s obviously settled in for the evening, feet propped up and a beer in hand, baseball game on in the background. 

“We will,” Dean answers, resisting the urge to roll his eyes as he straightens and grabs his keys. Adam waves as they head out the door, disappearing back into the house.

“You want to text Garth, let him know we’re on the way?” There’s a big group of them meeting up for this. It started with the hockey team, but everyone wanted to invite a friend or two, and if they did like Dean and brought it up in the middle of class some of their friends might have heard and wanted to come with too. Three months into a new school, Dean counts both him and Sam lucky that they have such a welcoming group. Sam nods and pulls out his phone, leaning back in his seat a moment later. 

“Don’t you think it’s weird?” Sam drums his fingers on the windowsill. He always complains about Dean’s music choices but he seems to put up with them just fine, even enjoy it sometimes. 

“What?” 

“Dad didn’t give a shit about dropping us off at Bobby’s and checking in once a year, but all of a sudden now he cares what time we get home.” 

“He’s trying, Sam. It was a lot-” 

“It was a lot of change for all of us, I know,” Sam interrupts, folding his arms. “That’s what everyone keeps saying.” 

“Hey, I don’t like it either. I’m just saying, it could be worse.” Dean is aware that Sam has even more problems with their dad than he does. Dean got a few years before their mom was sick, where John was happy and engaged, a good dad. He doubts Sam even has any memories of John before they lived with Bobby. Dean’s not sure why he feels the need to stick up for their dad, either. He always has, like he thinks sticking up for him is going to make John appreciate him more. “Come on, 11 is pretty late. We’ll have plenty of time for the haunted house and going to go get pizza after.” 

“Why are we going to go eat after? That’s so late.” 

“So nobody throws up on anyone in the haunted house,” Dean replies matter-of-factly. “I’ve seen it happen before, and they have to shut the whole thing down while they’re cleaning it up.” 

“You’ve seen it happen before?” 

“Yeah, you remember that one girl who I dated for a while? The one with the guitar, what was her name…” 

“Robin?” Sam supplies helpfully. 

“Yeah, Robin! We got sandwiches before we went to a haunted house, which was her idea, by the way. She was freaking out before we even got inside, and in one of the rooms this guy came running by with blood spraying out of her neck and she ralphed all over the floor. She was cool about it, though, she even asked if I wanted to wait and try again but I don’t think they would have let us back in.” Dean had felt bad, but he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t curious to see if she’d do any better the second time through. It didn’t stop them from making out in the car after, either. 

“Gross. What if we feel too sick for pizza after?” 

“Sammy, if I’m ever too sick for pizza I better be in a hospital bed otherwise I’m dying.” Sam rolls his eyes, looking out the window. “Besides, I didn’t think you were that much of a chicken. Should I have left you at home with Adam?” 

“Very funny,” Sam replies dryly. “It’s Sam, by the way. No one else calls me Sammy.” 

“Exactly, that’s why I get to do it. I have special big brother permission.” 

“I’m revoking that permission right now.” 

“Nice try, Sammy. You should know better, now I’m not calling you anything else all night.” Dean grins as they pull up in front of Garth’s house, reaching over to ruffle Sam’s hair. He huffs and smooths a hand over it, sticking his tongue out at Dean. Garth appears out of his front door a moment later, hurrying down the sidewalk and climbing into the back seat. 

“Hey guys! Whoa, I’ve always seen your car in the parking lot but it’s so much cooler up close!” Taking compliments for his car is something Dean is always happy to do, beaming back at Garth. 

“I rebuilt her, almost from scratch. Engine, exterior, interior, we put a lot of hours in.” 

“That’s so cool!” Garth exclaims, Sam sighing heavily and looking back at him. 

“Don’t encourage him, he’ll never shut up about it,” he warns. 

“That’s okay, I know what it’s like. People always tell me I talk too much. What are we listening to?” It’s true, Garth is a chatterbox. He likes to sit next to Dean while they’re waiting to be run in drills and just talk the whole time, but Dean doesn’t mind. Garth has some interesting things to say, and he’s never too offended if Dean spaces out and misses something. Dean pulls back out onto the road, listening to Sam launch into a complaint about Dean’s ‘boring’ taste in music. 

They’re not far from the haunted house, it only takes a few minutes before they’re pulling up. It’s one they’ve used some old, mostly abandoned fairgrounds for, the structure popping up almost overnight, run on noisy generator trucks. The lines outside did feel a bit like a fair, concessions offered at the first few trucks, t-shirts and other merch at another, and advertisements for similar houses around town, all under a flashing sign advertising the name of this one. Nightmare Town, an excuse to use as many different themes as they wanted, but Dean thinks it’ll be fun anyway. He spots a huddle of people he knows waiting near the ticket line, heading towards them. 

“Hey!” Charlie turns to greet them, hands stuffed in her pockets which move in some approximation of an attempt at a wave without having to move them, the red in her cheeks accented by her shock of red hair. “We’re just waiting on Cole now, I think.” Dean likes Charlie, she’s funny, and she’s smart, but she’s not a snob about it. She’ll help him out in class without making him feel like he’s an idiot for having to ask. 

“Isn’t your girlfriend coming?” Dean questions. It would have been hard to forget, she had been talking about everyone meeting her for weeks. 

“Oh, yeah, she’s here, she just had to run back to her car to grab something,” Charlie says, throwing a glance back towards the parking lot. The little circle widens to accept Dean, Sam, and Garth. Not everyone from the team was able to make tonight work, and it was kind of funny considering they’d been the ones to start this and they were outnumbered. There’s Benny, the goalie Jody had been absolutely correct in praising, and Cole on his way, plus Dean and Garth. Dean’s not the biggest fan of Cole. At first he thought Cole was just frustrated he wasn’t getting special treatment being the only senior on the team any more, but the other’s cool attitude towards him seems to run deeper than that. He’s surprised Cole agreed to come along tonight, honestly. 

“I think most of you guys have met him, but this is my little brother, Sammy,” Dean says, hooking an arm around Sam’s shoulder. 

“It’s just Sam,” he insists, squirming out from under Dean’s arm. 

“Benny. Seen you around at games, but don’t think we’ve ever been formally introduced.” His accent still takes Dean by surprise, a low southern drawl that feels out of place, but then Dean has to remind himself that they’re not the only people who have ever moved to Lawrence. “And my friend Lisa,” he adds. Dean’s seen her around too, she’s hard to miss. Dark hair and dark eyes, and more confidence than a lot of the girls in his class even though she’s only a junior. 

Sam nods, looking around the circle. “Balthazar, right? I think we met at the debate tournament last week.” Dean is surprised, but he supposes he shouldn’t be. Balthazar and Castiel are friends, Dean has even heard that they’re best friends, of course he’d go to support at tournaments. He’s wondered if there’s something more between the two of them, but he doesn’t want to assume that just because they’re the only openly gay guys in their year that means they’re an item. Still, they’re close, Balthazar right up against Castiel’s side as they stand here. Dean looks at the two of them before he zeroes in Castiel’s sweatshirt. 

“Hold on a second, is that a bee?” Dean questions, grinning at the sheepish expression that crosses Castiel’s face. He steps towards him, grabbing Castiel’s shoulders and holding him out to examine the shirt more closely. 

“What? We’re out for Halloween, it’s a Halloween shirt.” It absolutely is a bee, big and cartoonish, all six legs grasping a broom, antennae poking through a witch hat with ‘bee witching’ in bold letters underneath. 

“It’s hilarious,” Dean replies, grinning, releasing Castiel’s shoulder to trace the loops trailing behind the broom across the other’s chest. Not a lot of people could get away with wearing a sweater like this without looking like a total dork, but Dean thinks Castiel is pulling it off pretty well. 

“There she is!” Charlie’s exclamation draws Dean’s attention away from Castiel, turning to see Charlie grab the hand of a girl approaching the group. “Everyone, this is Dorothy. She used to go to Free State, she graduated last year.” They take a moment to go around the circles and introduce themselves again briefly. She’s pretty, Dean notices, long brown hair and a shy smile that seems to turn on every time she looks over at Charlie. 

“I hope Cole gets here soon, I’m freezing,” Sam complains, rubbing his hands up and down his arms. With the sun down, it’s not exactly pleasant out. Dean notices Balthazar move in closer to Castiel, wrapping his arm around his waist.

“Speak of the devil.” Benny nods towards the parking lot, where Cole is hustling along towards them. 

“Traffic was fucking nuts,” he says, shaking his head. “Let’s get in line, I’m freezing my balls off out here.” It’s not a hard sell. They make their way to the line, little pockets of conversation breaking out.

“So, Dorothy, Charlie’s been telling me that you’re at a KU? Studying planes?” It doesn’t surprise Dean that Charlie’s girlfriend would be smart, she’d have to keep up with Charlie, after all. 

“Aerospace engineering, technically, but I really just want to be a pilot. I might transfer to the polytechnic campus in a year or two once I see what Charlie is up to,” Dorothy replies, that little grin taking over again as she glances at the other. Dean had never heard of the campus until the week before when Charlie mentioned applying there, and it clicks together now. 

“No offense, but you couldn’t pay me to get on a plane.” The thought alone is enough to make Dean shudder. Kate had offered to fly him and Sam out from South Dakota and Dean had refused. He thinks it’s a rational fear, not wanting to be locked in a metal tube being hurled through the sky. 

“None taken. I could probably tell you horror stories that would make it even worse.” Dorothy says this incredibly brightly, and Dean laughs. 

“It wouldn’t take much,” he promises. They’re getting close enough to the house now that actors are wandering through the crowds, jumping out at people as they pass by or standing uncomfortably close to those just trying to wait in line. Sam stands perfectly still as a man with chains dragging behind him comes up and rasps in his face, even as Garth shuffles a few steps back behind Sam. 

It doesn’t take long to get their tickets and they’re ushered into a second line outside the entrance. The closer they get, the more shrieks and sounds they can hear from inside, making the energy in the air spike. One of the zombies limping by lunges suddenly and Lisa squeals. Dean watches Cole wrap his arm around her shoulder.

The closer they get to the entrance, the more the group huddles, and watching his friends pairing off inspires a moment of self-pity. Charlie and Dorothy’s arms are linked, pressed side to side, Lisa is looking cozy under Cole’s arm, and Balthazar is practically hanging off of Castiel’s side. It’s not like Dean is alone, or the only one without a date. Hell, half of these aren’t even dates, they’re just close enough that makes jealousy tug at Dean’s chest, itching for someone to be close to. A bang inside the building startles him out of his longing, driving him towards the front. “I can lead,” he offers, very happy to adopt the stereotypical, macho, nothing-gets-to-me persona for the night. 

Once they get through the doors, Dean is unsurprised to find the first room cloaked in darkness, only a dim red light casting an ominous glow over their surroundings. It’s supposed to be like a butcher shop, he thinks, unidentified shapes wrapped in plastic and hanging from the ceiling. Taking a deep breath, he starts to move through them, following a clanging sound towards the next room, glancing over his shoulder every few steps to see if everyone is following. It’s fairly uneventful, and Dean is again unsurprised when pushing open the door into the next room they’re greeted by the butcher wielding a meat cleaver. He can hear nervous giggles and shuffling behind him, scanning the room to find their next exit. 

He finally spots it behind the butchers table, an obviously not dead person laying very still. When she reaches out with a gasping groan, Dean prides himself on not jumping, but he can hear someone let out a squeak of surprise behind him, throwing a glance over his shoulder. Charlie is looking particularly red, both arms wrapped around one of Dorothy’s. He notes that Sam has taken the back of the group, meaning the butcher is closing in on him, trying to urge them forward. Sam looks fairly nonplussed, but Dean takes the hint and pushes through the next door. 

It dumps them into an apocalyptic type of outdoor wasteland. Good, zombies, Dean can’t wait. Sure enough, as soon as the door slams shut behind Sam they start to creep out of the woodwork. There’s not a lot to hide behind or separate them from the zombies coming towards them, faces dripping in various stages of decay as they circle around the group. It feels a little more chaotic, without as much direction on where to move next. There’s half of a broken down car the group is being coerced to move towards. Soon there’s a horseshoe of zombies around them, making a variety of groaning noises and pushing them back until they’re well and truly trapped against the car. 

Suddenly, a new zombie scrambles out from under the car, infiltrating the group, making a series of grunts Dean is honestly impressed by. Cole lets out a shout as it comes towards him, trying to get out of his way. Lisa is still clinging to his arm, until Cole shoves and sends her stumbling away so he can get himself out of the way. Dean bites back a laugh, watching Lisa absolutely glare at Cole until the zombie turns its attention to her. 

“There’s a door over there,” Castiel points out, indicating just beyond the car with one arm, the other around Balthazar’s waist. Balthazar’s got both arms around Castiel’s neck, Dean doesn’t even know how they’re walking like that. He feels another pang of loneliness before scolding himself; they’re in the middle of a haunted house and he’s standing here thinking about holding someone’s hand. He throws one more glance at Castiel and Balthazar before he starts his way towards the door the other had noticed. As they approach he knows what’s waiting on the other side, demented carnival music growing louder with every step towards it. 

They have to duck through a curtain, disorienting lights flashing around them. The music is loud in here, almost piercing, with an edge like a toy that’s running out of batteries but still trying to crank out a tune one final time before death. Hanging cages hold the stars of the show, wailing and disfigured. One of the girls crying sounds like an actual siren, Dean almost laughs every time she starts up again. They start into the room, when a curtain from the side bursts open and a flood of noisy clowns pours through. They each have a weapon, bats and knives and ropes they’re brandishing while laughing maniacally. 

Something solid hits Dean’s back and it takes a moment for him to recognize Sam’s voice in his ear. “Go, go, let’s get out of here, come on,” he urges, one of his hands fisting in the back of Dean’s shirt to hold himself closer. Dean realizes belatedly he should have expected it, Sam has never liked clowns but he didn’t realize his brother still hated them so much. He’s absolutely giving him shit for this later, but for now he forges ahead. Sam lets out a whimper near Dean’s shoulder when one of the clowns cuts through the group, waving a chainsaw over his head. 

The clowns frenzy increases the closer they get to the door. It’s more obvious than some of the others, a certain finality in its imposing size and the skull with glowing eyes set in the arch above it. Several clowns gather around it, their makeup darker around their eyes and lips until it’s morphing into something of a skull. The clown closest to the door holds a scythe, sweeping his arm forward in a grand gesture. Sam all but pushes Dean out the door. The mania of the last room is strongly juxtaposed by the eerie silence of the graveyard they’re suddenly standing in. The whispers of the carnival music that do make it through the wall are almost worse than having it screaming in their ears. 

Where all the other rooms had a flurry of activity, this one is incredibly still, apart from the fog rolling around their feet. It’s a cool effect, but the chemical smell of synthetic fog hangs heavy in the air. Dean hesitates, looking for some sort of path through. Sam reluctantly lets go of his shirt, taking a shuffling step forward. “Should we try-” 

Without any warning, the ground in front of every grave bursts open, twitching, ghostlike characters climbing out. It’s enough to make Dean jump, and he can hear Benny swear loudly. It takes Dean a moment to process, but all the undead around them are chanting ‘leave’ over and over again in papery voices, a very effective message. They make their way around the open graves (trap doors in the floor, Dean notes, which is pretty damned cool), a trickle of cool night air beckoning them to the last door. Dean gets there first, but he lets the others go out ahead of him, taking a mental count of everyone before he follows them out. 

The chill outside is refreshing, everything extra bright with a halo of adrenaline buzzing up and down Dean’s spine. The air is crisp, clearing the acrid smell of the fake fog still lingering in the air. Charlie and Dorothy are giggling, the sound still edged with nerves. “Well, we made it,” Dean announces, nudging Sam with his elbow. “Barely.” 

“You know I hate clowns.” Sam is immediately defensive, cheeks going pink. 

“It makes sense,” Castiel pipes up. Dean glances at him, and Balthazar is still right at his side, but at least he’s let go of him for the time being. “They’re clowns. No one is supposed to laugh that much.” 

“Thank you!” Sam looks vindicated having someone else on his side, straightening up a little. “They’re unnatural.” 

“Unlike the totally natural zombies we saw in there?” 

“Shut up,” Sam huffs, shoving at Dean’s shoulder. Dean just grins, wrapping his arm around Sam’s shoulders and pulling him into his side. It’s harder to do after his brother’s growth spurt, but Dean likes to remind him he’s the big brother here still. “You guys still up for pizza? I’m starving.”

“Ugh, please. I just want to go sit somewhere where all the lights are on.” Lisa’s arms are folded over her chest, and every time Cole tries to step near her again she shuffles away. 

They had already decided on a place nearby, so it’s not long after they split up to head to their cars that they’re all back together again, shoving two tables together so they have enough room for everyone. Once they’re settled, Dean’s got Sam on one side of him and Lisa on the other, Castiel and Balthazar across the table from him. “We’re definitely getting at least one pepperoni, right?” Dean questions, flipping idly through the menu on the table. 

“Isn’t pepperoni like a kids pizza?” Balthazar is smirking at Dean when he looks up, eyebrow quirked challengingly. 

“It’s the most popular pizza in the country.” Dean has no idea if that’s actually true, but he’s willing to bet on it. It’s a classic, a staple, he didn’t know anyone who didn’t like pepperoni. “And it’s my favorite. I could like something weird like anchovies or pineapples.” 

“There’s nothing wrong with pineapples on pizza,” Castiel says, reaching across the table to pull the menu out of Dean’s hands. 

“Oh no, Cas. Please don’t tell me you’re one of those people.” Castiel shrugs, flipping open the menu, eyes scanning so quickly Dean doubts he’s actually reading any of it. 

“Some of us have to have more diverse favorites. If you think you are going to be the one to convince me pineapple is the wrong choice, you’re mistaken.” He says it so cooly, Dean can’t help but laugh. 

“Fine, but if you think you’re going to convince me that pineapple on pizza is good, then you’re mistaken,” he imitates, grinning when Castiel’s eyes flash up from the menu to look at him again. 

“I like pepperoni.” Lisa leans her elbows on the table, shoulder brushing up against Dean. 

“See, Lisa likes pepperoni. I’d be willing to bet if we got everyone at the table to vote, pepperoni would slaughter pineapple.” Castiel shrugs, setting the menu down in front of him again. 

“No one is going to stop you from ordering a pepperoni pizza, either.”

“So we’ve agreed, then, we’re getting a pepperoni,” Dean replies triumphantly. 

“And a margherita,” Balthazar adds. “I don’t eat pepperoni.” 

“I’m cute but I’m only a year older than you guys, they’re not going to sell me a margarita,” Dean says doubtfully. He doesn’t even remember seeing one on the menu, honestly. Balthazar scoffs and shakes his head. 

“It’s a type of pizza. One of the most popular in France, if we’re comparing countries.” Dean fights a wave of embarrassment, forcing himself to laugh instead. How the hell is he supposed to know about pizza that’s popular in France?

“I know, I was just making a joke. Here, I’ll go get them. Pepperoni and margherita, I’ve got it.” He pushes himself up, heading to the other end of the table. “What are you guys getting?” 

“Pepperoni,” Charlie says, standing as well, reaching across the table to pluck a bill from Benny’s hand and adding it to the wad of cash in her hand. “Here, I’ll come with you.” She links arms with Dean, pulling him towards the counter. “Isn’t Dorothy just the best?” she sighs as soon as they’re roughly out of earshot, throwing a glance back at the table. 

“She seems nice, yeah.” Dean hasn’t seen much of her, but he knows that Charlie is always raving about her and she hadn’t tried to use Charlie as a human shield or anything in the haunted house, so she’s good in his book. 

“Our anniversary is next month. I think she’s taking us flying, her family owns a plane. It’s going to be so romantic.” Dean pulls a face, shaking his head. 

“If near death experiences are your idea of romance.” 

“Shut up and let me enjoy it,” Charlie scolds, throwing another glance back at the table. “Besides, I came with to gossip. You know how Cole was trying to get all cozy with Lisa? Apparently he’s been begging Benny to invite her to everything, but she’s really pissed that he pushed her, and then in the car on the way over here she was asking if you’re seeing anyone.” Charlie wiggles her eyebrows salaciously, and when she looks back at the table this time Dean looks back too. She is his type, he just hasn’t thought too much about dating since they’ve moved out here. Lisa notices them looking back at the table and smiles at Dean, who gives her a wolfish grin in return. 

“Benny’s not into her?” Dean turns back to Charlie, shuffling forward as the line moves.

“No, he has a secret girlfriend back in his hometown. Apparently his parents didn’t like her so he’s been trying to keep it quiet.” 

“Why do you know all of this?” Dean questions, raising an eyebrow. 

“I’m a good listener. Plus, no one ever logs out of school computers the way they’re supposed to, it’s not my fault.” Dean laughs, making a note to make sure that he’s never using a computer that Charlie is going to. He’s quiet for a moment before curiosity gets the best of him. 

“What about Cas and Balthazar? Are they-” His question is interrupted as the cashier beckons them forward. By the time they’ve placed their order and returned to the table with numbers and an armload of sodas he’s forgotten about it. A worker follows shortly after with pizzas in hand, setting them on their pedestals along the table. 

“So, you’re the new center for the hockey team, right?” They all have plates in front of them now, Dean’s stacked high with three slices of pepperoni, alongside a slice of margherita just because he’s curious. Lisa has her elbows on the table again, staring at Dean and twirling her hair around her finger. 

“That’s me,” Dean says. He could probably manage half this first slice of pizza in one bite but he decides to temper himself. 

“You’re really good. I’ve come to a few games, have you been playing forever then?” Dean’s happy to take compliments on his playing, chest puffing out ever so slightly. 

“Yeah, I’ve been skating since I was six or seven. You could say I just have a natural talent for it.” He ignores Sam’s little scoff next to him. “You’ll have to let me know next time you come to a game, I’ll throw in some extra moves.” Lisa giggles, batting her eyelashes. 

“I’ll have to get your number so I can tell you when I’m coming,” she purrs. Dean’s pretty sure Sam’s foot whacking into his ankle is not an accident but chooses to ignore it, pulling out his phone instead and handing it to Lisa with a wink. He sees Sam move from the corner of his eye, looking over to see his brother put the single piece of pizza he had on his plate back up with the rest. “What, did the clowns get to you so much you can’t eat?” 

“It wasn’t the clowns,” Sam replies, making a face past Dean’s shoulder before he settles back and folds his arms over his chest. “I’m just not hungry.” 

“Hey, we can get you a different kind, you want something else?” Dean’s reaching for his wallet already, but Sam quickly shakes his head. 

“No, I’m just not hungry. I’m fine, promise.” He gives Dean a thin smile that doesn’t necessarily look fine. Sam is so mature and smart for his age sometimes Dean forgets he is four years younger, and he hopes the haunted house really wasn’t too much for Sam. Lisa is sliding the phone in front of Dean again, bumping him with her shoulder. Looking back to her, Dean notices Cole staring daggers at them from down the table. 

“You guys have a game next week, right? I’ll definitely be there,” she says happily, looking very pleased with herself and the winking emoji she put next to her name in Dean’s phone. He glances at the text she sent herself when the plates are suddenly clattering against the table. Castiel has shoved himself up quickly, bumping into the table on his way. 

“We have to go,” he blurts, grabbing at Balthazar’s arm and tugging him up too. 

“I haven’t finished my pizza yet, Cassie.” 

“Is everything okay?” Sam questions, frowning a little as he looks up at Cas. Everyone at their table is looking at him now, actually, varying levels of concern on their faces. 

“Yeah I just- my mom texted, I have to go. It’s fine! Come on,” he insists, pulling on Balthazar’s arm again. Dean watches them hustle towards the door, Castiel practically dragging Balthazar alongside him. Their eyes meet as Castiel looks back through the window, quickly turning away and heading towards his car. 

“Well, that was weird,” Sam mutters, turning away from the window and settling back in his seat again, reaching for his water, next to an unopened soda he seems to have spurned as well.  
Dean looks out one more time, watching Castiel climb into his car. It was weird, Dean agrees, but he’s distracted as conversation bursts into action again as Charlie moves down a chair to resume whatever story she was telling at a more central location. They burn their way through most of the pizza they ordered, every story getting a little louder and more rambunctious until Garth’s grand gesturing sends a cup flying across the table. After cleaning it up, they’ve all wound down a little, and when Dean looks at his phone they’re pushing it close to 10:30, not a lot of time to take Garth home and get home themselves. 

Chatter continues out into the parking lot, Charlie and Dorothy hugging everyone before they get into Dorothy’s car together. Lisa gives Dean a hug too, pressing a brief kiss to his cheek before she heads off with Benny, who winks at Dean before he climbs into his truck. Dean doesn’t bother to turn the music up much louder when he starts up his car, appreciating the quiet of the night after all the screaming and music and laughing he’s heard tonight. Sam twists in his seat to carry on conversation with Garth, something about dragons Dean stopped following about 20 minutes ago.

He gets them home only a few minutes after their curfew, and John is asleep in his chair so Dean doubts he’s going to notice or remember. He says goodnight to Sam and heads to his bed, but once he lays down he finds it hard to relax. He’s not easily spooked, and the house really hadn’t been that impressive. It was fun, sure, but not enough to make Dean feel as restless as he does. It takes a few minutes of tossing and turning for him to realize he’s still worried about Cas, jumping up and leaving the way he did. He rolls over again to grab his phone, opening a new text and staring blankly at it. Asking outright felt too weird, but not saying anything isn’t sitting too well with him either. 

Dean: **What says zzub zzub zzub?**

********

********

Grabbing his laptop off the floor next to the bed, Dean pulls up Netflix and puts on a stupid cartoon, just to have something playing in the background, scrolling through Facebook while he waits to see if he gets a text back. 

Cas: **Are you having a stroke?**

********

********

Step one, getting Cas to answer, that seems to be going well. Pillows propped up behind him, Dean sits himself up a little, finally getting comfortable with his laptop on his legs.

Dean: **You’re not going to guess?**

********

********

Cas: **I don’t have the slightest idea.**

Dean: **A bee flying backwards.**

********

********

Almost immediately, Dean’s phone lights up, Castiel’s name flashing across the screen with the call button underneath. Intrigued, he answers, lifting the phone to his ear. “Hello?”

“Did you just text me at midnight to send me a bee joke?” Castiel’s voice is quiet, probably because it is midnight, but Dean can hear something playing in the background too. 

“Did you really just call me at midnight to ask me about a bee joke?” Castiel goes silent for a long moment, long enough Dean wonders if the other hung up on him and is about to check to see if the call is still connected. 

“You’re never going to let me live down that sweater, are you?” Dean grins, adjusting his pillows and settling back against them a little more, pulling his knees up a little. 

“Oh, absolutely not. I’m sending you every bee joke I can think of from now on.” He’s opening a new tab on his browser now, typing in ‘bee puns’ with his free hand. “Let’s see… what’s a happy bumblebee’s blood type?” 

“Please stop.” 

“Wrong, it’s bee positive.” 

“You’re ridiculous,” Castiel sighs. He doesn’t sound too upset, at least, and Dean doesn’t think he’d be on his phone right now if anything had been seriously wrong. 

“Yeah, that’s pretty obvious,” he replies, grinning. A shout comes from the background, and he raises an eyebrow. “What are you watching?” 

“Uh… Ghost Rider?” Castiel sounds sheepish as he says it. 

“And you’re calling me ridiculous? You’ve got to reevaluate, Cas. Anyone who volunteers to watch a movie with Nicholas Cage needs to think about their choices.” Not that anything Dean watches is very high brow, but he seems to do best when he’s giving Castiel a hard time. 

“I would’ve thought you liked it. All the fighting and fire and motorcycles.” 

“Alright, I can admit it’d be pretty badass to turn into a motorcycle-riding, fire wielding demon skeleton,” Dean replies with a grin. He has always wanted a motorcycle but Bobby had always told him he was only getting one over his dead body and he hasn’t bothered to bring it up with John and Kate. “I didn’t know you were into superheroes.” 

“Didn’t you just call me a nerd the other day?” Castiel deadpans. Dean lets out a loud laugh, trying to reel it in quickly and snorting into his hand. 

“You’ve got me there.” Light from the hallway floods under his door suddenly, lumbering footsteps making the wood floors creak. “Hey, I gotta go,” he says, dropping his voice a little. “I just wanted to make sure you were all good, after tonight. See you Monday?” 

“Yeah. I’ll see you Monday, Dean.” Dean smiles softly at that, hanging up and dropping himself against his pillows again. The footsteps linger outside his door a moment longer before they continue down the hall and he relaxes a little more. Sleep comes easy now, and it’s only a matter of minutes before he’s snoring into his pillows, Castiel’s messages still up on his screen.


	5. Chapter 5

People who can use the gentle, soft alarm tones impress Castiel. He always skips over those options, unsure how a wind chime tinkling is supposed to rouse anyone. He picks the most obnoxious one he can find and it still takes several seconds of it blaring for him to crack his eyes open. He rolls over and hits at his phone, finally getting a hand on it and pressing the button to make it shut up. He pulls the blankets a little more tightly around himself, snuggling into his warm little cocoon until five minutes later the alarm starts up again. He lets it scream for a little longer this time before he concedes, pulling his arms out of the blanket this time. It helps for a few seconds, but five minutes later he’s jerking awake again. 

It’s a typical morning, really. Castiel gets plenty of sleep, and he knows well that once he actually gets up, he’s fine. It’s just the act of actually getting up that he has the hardest time with, his mind always offering tempting excuses about why he could sleep for ten more minutes. He’s ready to drift off for a third time when his door slams open, jarring enough to make him sit up. Gabriel stands in his doorway, shaving cream still spread on half his face, hair wet and slick back against his head. 

“I got in.” Castiel blinks a few times, reaching up to rub at his face with one hand. 

“In my room?” He squints at Gabriel, his brain taking a very long time to catch up to why on Earth his brother would be standing in his doorway this early in the morning trying to talk to him. 

“School, Cas. I got into the school.” That makes even less sense, they’re definitely not at the school. Did he break in? Finally, Castiel’s mind is able to recall the conversation he’d had with Gabriel a few weeks before. 

“The culinary school?” Gabriel nods, still looking shell shocked himself. He’s still got his razor in one hand, phone in the other, Castiel notices, like he stumbled straight out of the bathroom here. Castiel finds a burst of energy, a grin breaking across his face. “Gabe, that’s fantastic!” It takes a little untangling to get out of his sheets, but once he does he rushes towards his brother, wrapping him in a warm hug. 

“I wouldn’t start until January, but… I never thought I’d get in,” Gabriel mutters, arms still hanging at his sides. Castiel laughs and gives him a squeeze, enough to break Gabriel from his reverie and get him to return the hug. 

“Even with a head as big as yours, you underestimate yourself,” Castiel says, grinning as he pulls back. There’s shaving cream on the shoulder of his shirt now, but he doesn’t mind, much happier to be celebrating with Gabriel. 

“A head as big as mine, huh?” Gabriel questions, grinning as he shoves Castiel’s shoulder gently. “Looks like my big head is good for something after all.” 

“Always has been.” Castiel hesitates a moment before he speaks again, voice a little softer. “Are you going to tell Mom?” He can see Gabriel’s expression sag slightly just at the mention of their mother. There weren’t any blowups that rivaled the one from a few weeks ago but the tension was clear between them. Dinners had been near unbearable, a stifling silence hanging heavy in the air, Gabriel and their mom doing their best not to look at or speak to each other. Anna was still having her mood swings too, and Samandriel was sensitive to everyone’s mood. Only Michael seemed unfazed by it all, rambling on about the places he was applying and the connections he made. 

“Guess I kinda have to, don’t I?” He sighs, leaning against the doorframe, looking down at the razor still in hand like he just realized it was there. 

“You don’t start until January, you’ve still got time,” Castiel points out, smiling. “Don’t pout. Look, I’m up anyway, go finish shaving and I bet we have time to stop at the bakery and get coffee and muffins before I have to go to school.” Gabriel brightens a little and nods, turning to head back out of Castiel’s room. Castiel figured out early on that showers at night meant he could delay his alarm a little bit longer in the morning, and most days he ended up giving himself only five minutes to stuff himself into clothes and stumble out the door. It’s a little weird having ample time to get ready. He even gets a chance to run a comb through his dark hair, though it doesn’t do much good. 

Where Castiel puts off having a morning routine as much as possible, Samandriel seems to be on the opposite end of the spectrum. He’s still got that wild little kid energy that is immune to mornings. He’s usually perched on the sofa with a book in hands when Castiel comes down, and today is no different. “It’s time to go already?” Samandriel questions, glancing towards the clock with a frown. 

“No, Gabriel woke me up early. We’re going to the bakery before school though, are you coming with us?” 

“Can I get a hot chocolate?” The book is already closed and he’s halfway off the sofa before Castiel can answer. 

“Of course. We should check on Anna and see if she wants to come too,” he muses. She’s taken to walking to school by herself even though Castiel drives Samandriel and himself every day, but maybe they can convince her with the promise of her favorite bagel. 

“I’ll go see!” Castiel watches Samandriel race up the stairs, smiling softly. He’s the baby of the family and he certainly is spoiled like it. Even in her worst moods Anna is still usually kind to Samandriel. She appears a moment later, following Samandriel down the stairs. 

“What’s the occasion?” Her newest stunt was dying a streak of her soft red hair black to match the wall she had painted in her room, and he’s still getting used to seeing it hanging over her shoulder. 

“Gabriel woke me up early.” It’s not his place to share Gabe’s news, especially when he knows his brother hasn’t told everyone he was applying. Anna’s eyes narrow slightly, but she seems to accept it, slowly nodding her head, adjusting her bag over her shoulder. Fitting with her theme for the year, it’s black as well, a variety of pins clipped onto it. They’re all toting sarcastic song quotes Castiel doesn’t really know, but he is aware he’s heard leaking through the walls over the summer. Gabriel comes thundering down the stairs a moment later, all smiles. He normally comes across fairly cheerful, but this morning he has an extra bounce to step that Castiel knows is a little more genuine. 

“Let’s get going, I’m driving!” Gabriel snatches his keys from the small board on the wall. 

“What, we’re not inviting Michael?” Anna questions, following him out the door. 

“You’re so funny, Anna, I don’t know why you’re not a comedian.” Castiel grabs his own keys, listening to his siblings bicker on the way out to the car. It’s light and teasing, the way he thinks family is supposed to be, not the thinly veiled insults Michael and their mother seem to hurl. Even Anna has a small smile as she climbs into the back next to Samandriel.

The radio is on when Gabriel starts the car, and he quickly reaches to turn it up, starting to belt along with it, off-key but with more than enough energy to make up for it. “Do you have to do that?” Anna complains, folding her arms over her chest, but Castiel catches a glimpse of her smiling again in the mirror. The next song Samandriel joins in, and Gabriel’s elbow to the ribs is convincing enough to get Castiel to come along on the chorus. 

“Cas said I could get hot chocolate,” Samandriel practically shouts as they pull up, first out of his seat. 

“Only if I can get one too,” Gabriel calls after him, climbing out next. Anna falls in step next to Castiel as they head to the door, waiting until Samandriel and Gabriel are a few steps ahead of them. 

“So what’s his deal?” She’s eying Gabriel suspiciously, throwing a glance up at Castiel. 

“You’ll have to ask him.” 

“It’s not fair, you guys have like, secret brother talks,” she huffs, stepping in the door behind Castiel. Even before they’re inside he can smell the goodies baking inside, overlaid with a sheen of the warm scent of coffee. Stepping into the room is an assault on his senses; there’s a very good reason that this is one of their favorite places to indulge. 

“It’s nothing bad, he’ll tell everyone when he’s ready,” Castiel assures, glancing over the chalkboard menu hanging behind the display. It’s different every time they come. He wonders if they have to climb up there and change it every single day. They’re always so busy and coming up with so many new ideas it wouldn’t surprise him. He has his favorites though, so even after scrutinizing the board when it’s his turn to order he gets the same as always. He’s handed a toffee nut latte and a giant blueberry muffin at the other end of the counter, standing next to Samandriel. He’s got both hands wrapped around his cup, towering with whipped cream and chocolate sauce, staring at it like he’s got a sugar buzz just from holding it. Gabriel joins them with a similar abomination, somehow having more whipped cream towering on top and a brownie in hand. 

“Gabriel said you’d share your muffin with me,” Samandriel says, tearing his eyes away from the hot chocolate for only a moment to look up at Castiel. Gabriel gives a little grin, slurping at the peak of the whipped cream mountain. 

“Fine, fine, I’ll share.” He doesn’t mind, really, it’s the kind of muffin that’s as wide as his hand and already he’s losing crumbs off the top. They find a table open and settle there, Anna joining with the same cinnamon raisin bagel she always gets. In seconds Samandriel has a mustache of whipped cream and chocolate, powdered with bits of muffin. Anna teases him, but Samandriel doesn’t pay much attention, much more entertained by Gabriel giving himself a similar mustache on purpose. They laugh and joke and enjoy their treats, and Castiel doesn’t even mind when he’s late to school because of it. It’s one of the best mornings his family has had in a long time. 

***

Another tinny crash sounds from Dean’s headphones, drawing Castiel’s attention. They’d only been in study hall for a few minutes but the whole time he’d had his music up so loud that Castiel could almost make out words. It’s not unusual for him to listen to something while he’s working, or even to listen to something pretty loudly, but it’s not usually this extreme, and he’s been staring at the same sheet of paper without moving since they sat down. 

They usually chatted in literature, but this morning Dean actually had his book in front of him by the time Castiel got to his seat. Now that he’s thinking about it, he doesn’t know that Dean was actually reading then either, similarly just sitting and staring. Castiel doesn’t think he’s seen Dean speak to anyone all day, and he doesn’t look very much inclined right now either. There’s a moment of silence as the song ends, but the next one is even louder. Dean finally moves only to drop his forehead to the table, sighing heavily. 

Working on history isn’t really holding Castiel’s attention in the first place. Dean doesn’t really look like he’s inviting conversation, but Castiel has seen his brothers do the same thing. Go silent and mope and shut down because they needed someone to listen to them. He bites his lip, finding resolution when Dean lets out another heavy sigh, reaching out to tap him on the shoulder with his pencil. His head jerks up, and Castiel isn’t sure if his eyes actually look misty or if he’s just projecting. 

“You’re going to go deaf.” Dean frowns, reaching up to pull his headphones down around his neck. Without being muffled against his head the music blares even louder now. 

“What?” 

“I said you’re going to go deaf.” Dean rolls his eyes, reaching out for his phone to turn the music down a little. 

“There, better?” He’s already moving to pull the headphones back up, but Castiel shakes his head. 

“Is everything okay?” Dean pauses, hands hovering.

“I’m fine.” He shrugs his shoulders, but he hasn’t pulled the headphones back over his ears yet, not quite meeting Castiel’s gaze. 

“I’d listen, if you weren’t. If you wanted to talk about it.” Dean looks back to the same paper in front of him again, leg starting to bounce under the table. Castiel briefly considers reaching out and putting a hand on his knee to still it but reminds himself that is probably a terrible idea. 

“I don’t want to dump my shit on you, Cas.” 

“I’m your friend, that’s what I’m here for. So you can... dump it out.” It doesn’t come out quite as well as it went in his head, but it makes the corner of Dean’s mouth pull up just a little bit. He glances around a little, surveying the tables around them. Most of them are empty, seniors have free reign in the building during study hall hours and most of them tend to congregate in the computer lab. The library stays quieter, and the librarian is a nice older lady who doesn’t really seem to care what they do as long as they’re not being too disruptive about it. Dean grabs his phone again, turning off the music and pulling off his headphones to set on top of it. 

“Fine, just don’t tell me to dump it out. That’s weird.” 

“Deal.” With a little smile, Castiel nods. “So, what’s going on?” Another sigh escapes Dean while he reaches for the pen sitting next to his paper, starting to weave it between his fingers. He likes to fidget, Castiel’s noticed, especially when he’s got something to worry about. The last literature test he’d spent so much time tapping his pencil against the desk Mr. Shurley had come by and told him to keep it down. 

“It’s all this college stuff. I’m sure it’s driving everyone crazy, and we’ve got months to turn everything in still. I just never thought I’d go to college, I wasn’t planning on applying, and now everyone’s pointing out all these weak spots in my applications.” The pen flips through his fingers again in a mesmerizing wave Castiel has never had enough dexterity to conquer. “Like I don’t already know. I don’t need everyone telling me I’d have better chances if my grades were higher. Maybe they just all think I’m an idiot and I need it spelled out for me.” 

It’s a familiar complaint, Castiel thinks he’s heard this exact argument from Gabriel before. Neither his brother or Dean are stupid, they have other things they’d rather turn their attention too. Castiel understands, even if his grades are higher it’s not because he works exceptionally hard, he’s just lucky that he’s been able to skate through this long. 

“Do you think you’re going to go to college now?” 

“I don’t know,” Dean groans, dropping back in his seat. “My dad’s been pushing me to do it. It’s always that I need to set a good example for Sam and Adam. Sam’s already planning his application, it’s not like seeing me get into some shitty community college is going to change his mind about going to law school. Adam’s smarter than me too, I can tell already. Besides, I don’t know where my dad gets off telling us about what kind of example I need to set after pulling his shit.” Dean’s expression hardens, the pen slipping from his fingers for a moment. 

“You guys didn’t live with him for a while, right? After your mom…” He doesn’t want to rub it in, unsure how he’s supposed to broach the topic without coming across as insensitive. He’s put together bits and pieces from both Sam and Dean, trying to ignore the gossip that filtered through alongside it. 

“For a while is an understatement,” Dean scoffs, watching the pen flipping through his fingers. “You met my mom at the hospital, right?” He lifts his eyes to Castiel, who nods, trying not to cringe at the memory of the gaunt woman in the wheelchair. “It wasn’t long after that, you know? And as soon as she died, my dad started drinking. We had family around helping out with the funeral arrangements, helping take care of me and Sam, but after a few weeks they had to leave. Go back to their own lives. My dad just kept drinking, he wouldn’t even come out of his room. And Sam, he was just a baby, not even a year old yet. I’d try to take care of him but I wasn’t any good at it. I couldn’t even take care of myself. The days that he would take me to school, I always tried to follow my friends home, those were the only meals I got.” Castiel remembers a few weeks of this, Gabriel showing up with Dean looking far less jovial than before. Their mother always gave him a peculiar look before setting him a place at the table, whispering to their father about something after they took Dean home for the night. 

“My uncle, Bobby, he came to check on us after he called and Dad didn’t answer. Found me sitting there with Sammy screaming his head off because we were out of formula and I was trying to feed him a soda I found in the back of the fridge. Next thing we knew he was putting us in his truck and taking us back out to South Dakota. I don’t think they ever signed any paperwork or anything like that, Dad just gave up. He would come visit every once in a while. Sometimes it would be a year or two before he showed up, but Bobby took good care of us. He ran this journal, but he had a side job fixing up classic cars, he was teaching me how to do that. 

“We thought that was just going to be how it was, but the last couple years he seemed to get his shit together. He started showing up for holidays, and he’d actually be cleaned up. Beard shaved, didn’t smell like he dumped a six pack on his lap on the way over. One day he shows up with a truckload of shit, a new hockey stick for me and this set of books for Sam, even a new pressure cooker for Bobby. Told us all he had exciting news. He’d reconnected with Kate and was moving in with her. Sam and I were happy for him, but then he dropped the big bombshell. We have a brother, and he’s going to live with him, too. Me and Sam, well, we’re already comfortable out here. We’re used to it. It’d be better if we just stayed.” The pen slips again, clattering to the floor this time. Castiel bends to pick it up, his chest aching for the other as he hands it back. There’s a mask of impassivity on Dean’s face, but when their eyes meet Castiel can see pain swimming behind them, pain he can only imagine. His family isn’t exactly the most functional but he never had his father tell him he’d rather go live with his other brother.

“So, we stayed. But then last year, Bobby had a stroke. He’s fine now, the old fart is still kicking, but Kate insisted we come out here. And now my dad thinks he can lecture me about how I need to apply for college and follow curfew and do all this other shit to set a good example. I’m not their dad, I shouldn’t have to be the one setting a fucking example.” Dean drops the pen on purpose this time, slamming his hand down over it on the table. The librarian throws them a look from her desk, and Dean takes a deep breath, closing his eyes for a minute.

“I don’t think that’s the same as what’s bothering everyone else about applications, Dean” Castiel points out quietly. There is stress for everyone, he’s feeling that stress too, he saw Gabriel struggle all through the last year, but he’s beginning to suspect that college isn’t the core issue here. 

“Everyone’s got their problems, I don’t want to sit here and make this a stupid sob story about me. It’s just… I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing.” His elbows land on the table, face hiding in his hands. 

“I told you I wanted to listen. I meant it. That all sounds remarkably shitty. I’ve known that I wanted to apply for college for years and I still don’t know what I’m doing, I can’t imagine trying to figure it all out right now.” Castiel feels woefully inadequate for a moment. All he can do is try to guess how Dean’s feeling, there’s no way he can really understand. If this is what’s been weighing on his mind all day, no wonder he’s seemed so distant. Maybe just getting it out would help, though, that’s what he’s hoping. 

“I’m 18, too. I could just leave. Go get a job and an apartment and tell my dad to fuck off, but… I couldn’t ditch Sam like that. It’s been... weird anyway.” Dean falls quiet, head still buried in his palms. 

“Weird?” Castiel prompts gently. If there’s one thing he knows it’s that Dean cares for his brother a lot, and he thinks that something being ‘weird’ between them would probably be enough to make Dean feel bad today on its own. Dean nods, lifting his head slowly and letting his hands fall back to the table. 

“I guess I was used to it kind of just being me and Sam back in South Dakota. Bobby was there, but he had to work a lot. It was fine, but… I don’t know. Sam started high school this year too and he’s in debate and soccer and doing all this extra work. I barely see him and when I do he looks exhausted. I don’t think he’s said a word to Dad in a month, it just feels like he’s barely around any more. I don’t want to leave, but I’m not even sure he would notice if I did.” 

“Dean.” Castiel reaches out, laying his hand on the other’s arm and giving it a small squeeze. “I can promise you he would. He talks about you all the time, you know? The last time we traveled for debate he made the group stop so he could take a picture of some statue and send it to you because he thought you’d think it was funny.” The tension cutting Dean’s expression eases slightly as he regards Castiel. “Whatever Sam’s going through, I’m sure he’s glad that you’re there with him.” A quiet falls between them and Castiel realizes his hand is still on Dean’s arm, giving another squeeze before pulling it back. “I’d notice if you left too,” he adds, hoping it comes across as more lighthearted than it feels. 

“It’s just been a shit show of a year. I guess it’d make sense for Sam to be having a hard time,” Dean admits with a wry laugh, studying Castiel’s face for a moment before he looks down at the paper on the table, directing his attention on starting to fold all the corners in. 

“It makes sense for you, too. Two of my brothers barely made it through their senior years. Gabriel didn’t start applying for colleges until this summer. Luke dropped out and is in rehab somewhere in Alabama, last we heard from him. You don’t have to have it all figured out right now, no matter what your dad says.” He watches Dean smooth down the folds, flipping the paper over to start again. There’s some kind of assignment on it but he doesn’t seem to care and given their conversation Castiel isn’t going to bring it up. 

“You’re right.” It surprises Castiel to hear Dean say that, he doesn’t think it’s something that the other gives up very easily. “We got in a fight this morning, me and my dad. He found a math quiz I flunked from the other day and chewed me out, started telling me what a disappointment I am. Haven’t been able to shake that all day. Hey, why were you late this morning?” Dean looks up from his paper, eyebrow quirked. “You’re always there before everyone else.”

“We went and got breakfast and it took a little longer than we thought it would. Gabriel doesn’t care much for time management.” Castiel considers sharing the news, but decides against it. It’s not his news to share, again, and he doesn’t want to make Dean feel any worse about school than he already is. 

“That coffee smelled amazing, where was it from?” Dean seems relieved to steer the conversation away from himself, and even though Castiel doesn’t quite like letting Dean sit in thinking he’s a disappointment, he goes with it for now. 

“Oh! You haven’t been to Blackbird? It’s a bakery down Main, it’s amazing. Next time I can bring you something.” 

“Are they open through lunch?” He starts to fold the paper into a square, popping out the corner pieces until a small pyramid sits on his fingers. 

“Yes, they have these amazing paninis too. I haven’t been to lunch there since summer.” 

“We should go today. My treat, for listening to my stupid story.” Dean glances up at the clock, rolling the paper creation between his hands. 

“I wanted to listen,” Castiel insists. “And I don’t think it was stupid.” 

“Fine, we can still go to lunch. I didn’t get to eat this morning anyway, I’m starving. Here, these things are supposed to be fortune tellers.” He settles the paper back on his fingertips, flexing his hand and making the points move apart and come back together. Castiel has a vague memory of girls in elementary school making these and calling them some ridiculous name. “Ask it if we should go.” Dean lifts the contraption towards Castiel’s face. 

“Don’t you have to write in them or something?” 

“This one just speaks to me, I’ve got it. Ask it!” Dean’s hard to resist, especially when he’s wearing the biggest smile Castiel’s seen all day. 

“Should we go to Blackbird for lunch?” Castiel stage-whispers it towards the paper, watching Dean pull it away and open and close it a few times before holding it up to his ear. 

“It said hell yeah.” There’s a renewed sparkle in Dean’s eye, a soft glow to his freckled cheeks that Castiel lets himself admire for a moment. 

“Hell yeah? I guess we have to go, then.” Compared to how miserable Dean looked when they started this conversation, Castiel’s very happy to let him speak to a paper box if it means he’s feeling better. “We have 20 minutes until lunch, though, I need to finish this history project.” He’s essentially forgotten about it sitting in front of him but he really should finish it now so he can turn it in this afternoon. 

“The gold rush one? I can help, I actually know this.” It’s a little surprising to hear, and that surprise must be echoed on Castiel’s expression because Dean shrugs and looks down at the paper again. “I really like cowboys, okay? Only books Bobby could get me to read.” 

“Cowboys?” Dean has a lot of nerve calling Castiel a nerd when he whips out something like this. Castiel very quickly stops feeling smug about it when his mind tries to supply him the image of Dean up on a horse, all strong thighs and muscular arms, shirt half unbuttoned like they always wear on the covers of romance novels.

“Do you want my help or not?” Dean huffs, grabbing for Castiel’s paper and pulling it in front of him, thankfully distracting him from the flush on Castiel’s face. He mumbles an agreement and pulls his chair in to look at his paper, banishing all mental images of his friend to a restricted corner of his mind. 

By the end of the hour, they have the assignment finished and Castiel has successfully managed to cool himself off a little. He puts the paper in his folder and is stuffing the folder in his bag when Dean pipes up again. “Hey, is Cole a dick to everyone?” 

“Cole? I don’t know him very well, but I don’t think so. Why?” 

“He kind of seems like he’s got it out for me. Maybe I’m just being paranoid, but I swear at practice yesterday he was trying to take me out on purpose.” He shrugs his bag onto his shoulders, straightening up and looking to Castiel. 

“Maybe you’re not as good at hockey as you think you are,” Castiel replies with a grin, pulling his own bag over his shoulder. 

“Oh, so you’re a dick now too? I thought you were my friend.” Dean is smiling, but there’s something else just beneath it. He steps forward and for a wild, stupid minute Castiel wonders if Dean’s about to kiss him, but he’s just as surprised to feel Dean’s arms wrap around him. It takes a beat for him to reciprocate, arms coming around his shoulders. “Thanks,” he mutters, muffled against Castiel’s shoulder. He doesn’t have to ask what for, he just nods and gives Dean a gentle squeeze before they part. “You’re giving me directions, right?” He turns away like nothing happened, starting out the library door, and Castiel stares after him for a moment before catching up. 

Lunch is just as good as breakfast, maybe better. Castiel can’t tell if that’s because the food is actually higher quality or if it’s because he gets to spend 45 minutes laughing and talking with Dean, but either way by the time they get back to the school he’s feeling really damned good. He holds onto that feeling through his classes, and when Gabriel texts him asking if he wants him to come pick him up after Samandriel, Castiel is happy that he gets to tell him no, he’d already mentioned not having his car today and Dean offered to take him home.

The bell rings and students spill into the hall. Castiel heads to his locker, Balthazar trailing after him. “Please, Cassie, it’s just one paper.” 

“I have never written one of your papers for you, I don’t know why you think I’d start now,” Castiel replies, stacking his books inside his locker, stuffing the ones he needs into his backpack. 

“Because you love me,” Balthazar leans against the locker next to Castiel, bottom lip pouting out. 

“I’m not doing it,” Castiel replies, looking to Balthazar and reaching out to pat him on the cheek. “Maybe next time you won’t wait to start it until the day before it’s due.” That’s pretty optimistic, considering they’re in their senior year and Castiel is pretty certain he’s seen Balthazar in this exact dilemma every time they’ve had a paper. 

“Will you come round mine and keep me company while I write it then? Please,” Balthazar begs, pushing himself away from the lockers while Castiel slams his shut. 

“I have to finish mine tonight too and you’ll just try to distract me.” The halls are always chaos at the end of the day, everyone funneling towards the same doors, conversation renewed with the excitement of freedom. There’s a tug as Balthazar grabs onto his backpack to keep up with him. The crowd packs together more tightly as they approach the door, making the cool air outside feel that much better once they’re through. Castiel moves from the flow of students, leaning against the wall. 

“Fine, I’ll just suffer all alone then,” Balthazar complains, frowning at Castiel before he turns and heads towards his car.

“Just text me when you get stuck on the citations,” Castiel calls after him. He knows that it happens every time, at least if he makes Balthazar do the rest of his paper himself he doesn’t feel so bad about helping out there. He watches him go before scanning the parking lot. He knows where Dean parked, considering Castiel was with him when they came back for lunch. It looks like Dean’s already at his car, and Castiel heads towards him. He’s leaning back against the door so Castiel can just see his head and shoulders from behind as he comes around the side of the car. 

He doesn’t expect to see a hand appear at Dean’s neck, stomach dropping. Another step and Lisa comes into full view, pressed against Dean with their lips locked together. He should’ve known, they had been flirting at the haunted house so obviously and he’d seen them in the hall a few times too. He should be happy for his friend, but he just feels sick, the joy of his day sapped out of him in seconds. It’s another moment before they seem to realize that someone else is there, Dean breaking the kiss to look up at Castiel. 

“Oh, hey, Cas. This is-” 

“Lisa. I remember. I don’t need a ride any more, Gabriel is picking me up. I just wanted to let you know.” He turns on his heel, pretty certain that if he has to watch them for another second he’s going to explode. He hears Dean call something after him but it drowns in the ringing in his ear. He marches away from the parking lot, vaguely towards the front of the building, but once he’s away from most of the crowd hot tears are burning at his eyes.

He’s so stupid. He knows that Dean is into Lisa, he knows that Dean is straight, he knows that he’s just trying to be a friend, so why did he get his hopes up today? It hurt to see them together, but it shouldn’t. He makes it around a corner of the building before slumping into the dirt, pulling his knees up to his chest and letting his head loll, tears dropping onto his jeans. Stupid, stupid, stupid. His phone buzzes in his pocket but he ignores it, too busy sitting here wallowing to care. It’s not just that Dean is into someone else, it’s that Castiel let himself think he actually had a chance. He does want to be Dean’s friend, he was trying to support him today, and he feels almost dirty knowing that he’d been hoping it meant something more. 

The din of students leaving fades away until only the shout of a few kids out on the field throwing around a football are left. It isn’t a far walk, but Castiel doesn’t feel like moving a single muscle. Slowly, he uncurls himself, realizing that he usually never spends this long outside and that if he did he would’ve known he needs a coat. A chill hits as he walks away from the school, and five minutes later he’s shivering. He could just call Gabriel, he’d pick him up. Balthazar, too, or even Dean, but Cas feels too much like he deserves this to reach out. His penance for being so blind, he gets to freeze on the walk home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> dean: I don't want to talk about it  
> dean: -spends the next 30 minutes talking about it-   
> ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯


	6. Chapter 6

The shrill shriek of a whistle cuts through the air. Dean takes a deep breath, staring down the goalie as he lines up his shot. The goalie shifts impatiently, adjusting his grip on his stick. Someone shouts from the crowd in the stands, but Dean doesn’t let it distract him, starting towards the goal. A point from a penalty shot is still a point and it would put them up by one, hopefully something they could hold for the last few minutes of the game. He zig-zags across the ice, feigning to the left just enough to get the goalie to focus there before he turns, scooping the puck up with a sharp flick of his wrist and sending it sailing over the goalie's shoulder and into the net. It’s a damned good shot, the crowd’s cheers telling him that they’re inclined to agree. 

Grinning, Dean circles back to his teammates, enveloped into a huddle and met with muffled congratulations from behind the other’s helmets, a few enthusiastic pats on his own helmet. For how precise and controlled they can be with the puck, everything else feels clunky and awkward when they’re in gear. 

There’s noticeably less energy in the opposing team as they come to face off at the middle line again, or maybe it’s just that Dean is buzzing with so much himself it seems like everyone else is moving slower. Either way, he flies around the other players, surprising himself when he sneaks around the opposite center and whips the puck into the goal again. This game is especially well attended, even for a home game, and their classmates are cheering in their seats as they run down the clock and close out the game with another win. 

They have been kicking ass this season, in Dean’s not-so-humble opinion. This is the third game in a row they’ve won, and while the playoffs are still a long way off he can’t help but get his hopes up that they might get to see them. Coach Mills seems pleased with their progress as well, and she’s grinning as the team skates towards their exit. “Not bad out there,” she calls out, giving each boy a firm pat on the back as they funnel off the ice. 

The locker room booms with the sound of their voices, rough pats on the shoulder and occasionally the ass as they pass each other. “You’ve been killing it, brother,” Benny says, arm coming around Dean’s shoulder, tugging him against his side. “We might be looking at state this year.” 

“That’s what I’ve been hoping,” Dean replies, beaming as he tugs his helmet off, running a hand through his sweaty hair. It’s always left an absolute mess after practice or a game, helmet hair is a real problem, but right now he doesn’t give a fuck, still riding the adrenaline high of a win. He gives Benny a solid slap on the back before he pulls away and drops himself on a bench so he can start to unlace his skates. 

“We almost made it last year.” Benny settles next to him, dropping his helmet on the floor between them. “Of course, we didn’t have such a stellar center,” he points out, reaching over to ruffle Dean’s hair. 

“Winchester’s head is already big enough, you don’t need to add to it.” Dean glances up at Cole, stopped in front of them with his arms folded over his chest. “It’s a team effort.” 

“I’m not saying otherwise, but it helps having someone score. If I recall correctly, it’s been a while since you’ve helped out in that department.” Benny’s got an easy grin on his face, the kind that would make it seem like he was joking if it wasn’t for the bite creeping into his tone. Dean maintains that Cole has it out for him, and he’s getting really fucking tired of it. Judging by Benny’s expression, he’s not the only one. 

“Oh fuck off, Benny. It’s not like you’re doing anything that great for the team,” he snaps, and that faux-friendly smile drops from Benny’s face so quickly Dean swears he could’ve only imagined it was there in the first place. 

“Y’know, I suggest you think real hard before you keep saying shit like that.” There’s a beat of silence before Dean pushes himself up, shaking his head. He hates to have the joy of the win sullied by a stupid argument, especially when he feels at fault for whatever hair Cole has up his ass, even if he doesn’t understand it. 

“Well I don’t know about you guys, but I’m ready to get out of here. Didn’t you tell me a bunch of people from your class were coming today, Benny?” Dean starts to peel off the layers of his gear, stuffing them into his locker as he does. It seems enough to break the tension, and when Dean glances back over his shoulder Cole is gone. 

“Yeah, got a whole crew coming. I expect Lisa is gonna be here again, isn’t she?” Benny grins, wiggling his eyebrows a little. Dean wouldn’t say they’ve been dating, necessarily, but they have been spending a lot of time together. She’s cute, she’s a good kisser, he’s having a good time, and he thinks that’s all that really matters. 

“Sounds like you’ve been gossiping about me in class again,” Dean accuses, grinning as he tugs a hoodie over his head, shoving his feet into his boots without bothering to tie them, tucking the laces in. 

“I don’t gossip.” Dean rolls his eyes, but he’s grinning, swinging his duffle bag over his shoulder. He waits for Benny to finish changing as well before he heads out into the hall with him. Sure enough, there’s a cluster of juniors who had come to the game that surge down the hall to meet them. Lisa is towards the front of the group, bouncing forward and flinging her arms around Dean’s neck. He grins, his arms coming around her waist to give her a little squeeze. 

“You did so good out there,” she says, pushing herself up on her toes to press a brief kiss to Dean’s lips. There’s an overwhelming floral scent clinging to her, pushing into his space. Dean’s noticed she totes around some ‘cherry blossom kiss’ perfume with her all the time that he never sees her put on but somehow always seems to be floating in a cloud around her constantly. He’s not going to say anything, he’s definitely come across worse. This is actually kind of nice. “My dad is picking me up in like five minutes, you got anywhere else to be?” 

“Sounds like I do now.” Dean ducks down to take another brief kiss, breaking it with a smirk as Benny slaps his shoulder in passing. Lisa pulls away and takes his hand, starting to lead him down the hall. As they pass the group, Dean catches sight of a familiar mop of black hair hanging in the back. He stops, raising an eyebrow. “Cas?” He’s been trying to get his friend to come to a game for a few weeks, but he usually had debate. Dean had known that he didn’t tonight thanks to Sam, but he wasn’t fully convinced the other would show, or that he’d bother looking for him after. Castiel looks up, eyes flitting between Dean and Lisa before he smiles at them, though it seems a little strained. 

“Hey! I just wanted to say good job. But it looks like you’re busy, so…” Castiel laughs nervously, running a hand through his hair and starting to shuffle back. 

“No! I’m so glad you could make it, man.” Letting go of Lisa’s hand, Dean steps forward to catch Castiel in a brief hug, grinning as he pulls back. “What did you think?” Castiel’s eyes flick over his shoulder again, and when Dean looks back, there’s definitely a touch of annoyance in Lisa’s expression. She pulls her phone from her pocket, glancing at it and giving Dean a pointed look. 

“Five minutes,” she reminds him. Five minutes is still enough time to go find a corner and make out, but Dean’s been harassing Castiel about coming to a game for so long it seems pretty shitty to ditch him here for that. 

“Rain check?” Lisa narrows her eyes slightly, pressing her lips into a thin line before she nods. 

“Fine. I’ll talk to you later.” She comes towards Dean again, pushing herself up onto her toes for a kiss. Dean moves to return it, but at the last second he decides against it and plants one on her cheek instead. She looks affronted as he pulls away, but he can’t help but think of the last time he’d kissed Lisa in front of Cas and he’d taken off. Maybe it was just a coincidence, but it hasn’t sat right with him since then. He’s still not sure if it’s that or everything he dumped on Castiel that day, but he doesn’t want to make the wrong move either way. She stares at Dean a moment longer before huffing and turning on heel, heading down the hall. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt,” Castiel says, looking sheepish as Dean turns his attention back to him. 

“You didn’t, don’t worry about it! You didn’t answer my question, though. What’d you think?” 

“It was good, I think. I don’t know much about hockey,” Castiel admits. “But it seemed good. You guys won, I know that’s the goal.” 

“The goal is to have fun, Cas.” Dean says it with a straight face, breaking it with a grin when Castiel looks like he’s about to backtrack. “I’m just messing with you. I mean, technically they always tell us that’s what we’re supposed to be thinking, but everyone knows we just want to win.” He shuffles closer to Castiel as part of the group breaks off and heads down the hall, chanting something about tacos. 

“Well, you did it.” Castiel glances after the group before looking back up at Dean. “You guys are really fast out there. I’ve never been to one of these games before. Actually I’ve never been to an ice skating rink before.” 

“No shit? So you’ve never skated?” It’s such an integral part of Dean’s childhood, he forgets that other people have never had the experience. 

“I’ve roller skated, but no, never on the ice. I’ve always wondered what it’s like, though.” Dean raises an eyebrow, tugging his phone from the pocket of his duffle bag and glancing at the time. 

“What size shoe do you wear?” 

“What?” Castiel’s eyebrows pinch together, an expression that Dean’s noticed he wears often. 

“Shoes. Like the things you put on your feet.” Dean grins, knocking his boot against the side of Castiel’s shoe. It’s some kind of loafer, the type of shoe that Dean only wears when he’s being forced, but Castiel seems to have a much more of a refined sense of style in general. Well, most of the time, but Dean still hasn’t forgotten the bee sweater. 

“Um, an 11. Why?” 

“We have at least half an hour before the zamboni guy comes out, let’s go.” He grabs Castiel’s wrist and starts to tug him back towards the locker room. “We’ve got a few pairs of backup skates just in case, I know we’ve got some that’ll fit you.” Strictly speaking, they’re not supposed to go out on the ice without permission if it’s not practice or a game, but Dean thinks they can squeeze in a few minutes without getting into too much trouble. 

“Fit me? Are you trying to tell me we’re going ice skating?” Castiel’s voice sounds surprisingly loud as the locker room door swings shut behind them. 

“You said you wanted to try it,” Dean points out, dropping his duffle by his locker and opening it up so he can grab his own skates. “Unless you can’t stick around.” He hesitates, realizing belatedly that Castiel might actually have somewhere else to be. 

“No, no, I can stick around.” Dean grins as he heads to the supply closet, ruffling around until he finds the skates he was thinking of, turning back to hand them to Castiel. 

“There, try those. Make sure you lace them up nice and tight.” He drops himself on the bench and starts to pull his on. Years of practice means he has both his skates laced and is ready to go before Castiel has one done. Hands behind him on the bench, Dean leans back and watches the other. Just like in the hall, he’s got that pinch between his eyebrows, a little wrinkle that seems to come when he’s confused or concentrating or just thinking really hard. It goes well with the serious look he always seems to hold in his eyes, dark and laser focused at times. That gaze is turned on Dean as he straightens up. 

“You don’t have to do this, you just finished a game. I’m sure you’re tired.” Dean can’t tell if Castiel is just being polite or if he’s nervous, but either way Dean’s set on getting the other out onto the ice. 

“I don’t have to do anything, but I want to show my friend how to ice skate. Come on,” he says, pushing himself up before turning and reaching out for Castiel, helping him to his feet as well. Already Castiel wobbles, glancing down at the blades doubtfully. 

“Did I put them on wrong?” Dean laughs, shaking his head. 

“No, this is just what it feels like for the newbies.” He starts towards the rink, going slow while Castiel waddles along beside him. It’s been so long since Dean’s felt like that on skates, but he can remember the first few times. Out on a pond, there’s no zamboni, nothing to make sure it’s smooth and easy. Twigs and leaves froze into the ice, giving a plethora of imperfections for the blade of his skate to catch on. He’s surprised he never broke a bone, as reckless as he was, always pushing himself to go as fast as he could and wiping out phenomenally as a result. He steps out onto the ice, turning to watch Castiel take a tentative step, foot sliding out in front of him almost immediately. 

“How do you guys make this look so easy?” Castiel mutters, clutching the wall as he brings both feet under him, wobbling slightly as he tries to straighten up. 

“We’re just naturally talented.” Dean grins, turning in a small circle. “I told you, I’ve been doing this since I was five. Sam has too but he still usually ends up on his ass every time we come out.” His brother never took to it quite the same way. They’d wasted away several winter afternoons chasing each other around on the pond, but Sam seemed to prefer his athletic activities to take place on a slip-resistant surface. Castiel shuffles a few steps forward before wobbling again, grabbing at the wall with both hands. 

“I’m starting to think you brought me out here just to see how long it would take me to fall.” Castiel glances at Dean, but it only serves to make him sway again. 

“And so you could get to ice skate, I can have two motives. Come on, once you get going it’s not so bad, promise.” Castiel sighs heavily and starts to edge along the wall, one hand always supporting himself and two when the wall starts to curve. Dean skates laps around him, slowing down every time he catches up to Castiel but the other always waves him off with a grumble. 

After Castiel’s made it around the rink a full time, Dean stops next to him. “Come on, no more wall. You’ve graduated.” Turning in front of Castiel, Dean reaches out his hands, wiggling his fingers when Castiel just stares at them. “I’m not going to intentionally knock you over, Cas. Don’t you trust me?” 

“No.” Castiel’s words contradict him as he peels a hand away from the wall, grasping at Dean’s. 

“Seems like you might,” he teases. He can feel the moment Castiel lets go of the wall with his other hand, grip going tighter as he fights to keep his balance while he reaches out for Dean.

“I don’t, but when I fall at least I can make sure you fall too.” Castiel’s staring down at his feet, like if he can just focus hard enough on looking at them they’ll do what he wants. 

“Oh, I’m not going to knock you over but you’ll knock  _ me _ over? That’s cold, Cas.” Dean starts to move slowly, pulling Castiel along with him carefully. He seems to have run out of retorts, instead just clutching Dean’s hands and trying to stay upright. They make slow progress around the rink, Castiel tentatively making small, tense movements to propel himself forward. 

As they approach the first turn Castiel nearly loses his balance, fingers digging into Dean’s skin and a surprisingly high-pitched squeal coming from him, echoing around the rink. “I didn’t know you could make that noise!” Castiel’s voice is a low rumble most of the time, almost gravely, Dean’s never heard anything close to this.

“I’m not usually falling over,” Castiel retorts, keeping a death grip on Dean’s hands as they complete the turn and start forward again. Dean starts to loosen his grip once they build up some speed but Castiel shakes his head. “Don’t you dare let go!” He says it so seriously Dean can’t help but laugh, giving Castiel’s hands a little squeeze. 

“Yes, sir.” Castiel scoffs but he doesn’t loosen his grip. Dean pulls them along easily, legs snaking in and out under him. Once they get the hang of the turns, they can start to glide, moving a little more easily. Castiel goes from being slightly hunched over Dean’s hands to straightening his back a little, eventually pulling himself away from staring at their feet and looking up at Dean. 

“I don’t know how you guys do this while you’re hitting each other,” he says. He’s got a careful rhythm going, though the toe of his skate catches on the ice every so often and throws him off. “If I sneezed I’d be done for.” 

“See, Cas, this is why I like hanging out with you. No one else tells me how impressive my skating skills are.” That’s not entirely true, there’s a lot of reasons he likes hanging out with Castiel. It’s not necessarily hard for Dean to make friends, but there’s a big difference between his friends he makes out of convenience and the ones he can actually talk to. Sam used to be the only one he really opened up to, but lately it’s felt like Sam has too much of his own shit to deal with for Dean to add to it. Castiel probably does too, but he’d still listened to Dean the other day, even if things got a little weird after. It seems like they’ve gotten past it, maybe Dean would just think a little harder before he opened his mouth next time. 

“You’ve got my life in your hands here, I’ll tell you anything you want to hear.” 

“I’ll take what I can get,” Dean replies, picking up a little more speed as they round the next turn successfully. Castiel is gaining confidence too, propelling himself more than Dean is pulling him now. “What’s going to happen when you can skate on your own then? You’ll tell me everything you were holding back?” 

“No, I’m not that mean.” Castiel glances to Dean’s face, grinning. He’s still got that little wrinkle of concentration in the middle of his forehead, but it’s overtaken by the light of the smile, eyes crinkling at the corners. He doesn’t smile very often, but it’s a good look on him when he does, and it always makes Dean feel like he’s accomplished something when he gets to see it. 

“I’m holding you to that.” This time when Dean loosens his grip Castiel lets him, holding his hands out for balance at his sides as he lets go. Dean waits to make sure that Castiel is going to stay upright before lifting his fists in the air, whooping. “You’re skating!” 

“I’m skating,” he agrees, the smile on his face growing as he glances down at his feet again. 

“Give you a week or two and you’ll be as good as me, don’t you think?” Castiel snorts softly, looking at Dean again. 

“Sure, next thing you know I’ll be taking your spot on the hockey team,” he replies, shaking his head a little. Combined with the coming turn it’s just enough to throw him off balance. Dean can see it happening, the jerk of Castiel’s foot out from under him, and he manages to catch Castiel’s shoulder but it’s not enough to help him regain his balance. Instead, Castiel’s hands grab at the front of Dean’s shirt and they’re both going down, landing hard on the ice. 

“Shit, are you okay?” Dean’s fallen a lot but Castiel took the brunt of it with Dean landing on top of him. Dean pushes himself up to look down at Castiel, cold burning into his palms where they’re planted on either side of the other’s head. Castiel nods, letting out a breathless laugh, hands still tangled in the front of Dean’s shirt. His cheeks are flushed from the cold, eyes big and dark and blue as Dean stares down into them, feeling giddy and sounding it as well with the little laugh that slips from his lips. 

If this was a movie, this is the moment where they’d kiss. 

“Boys, off the ice!” Dean’s head jerks up as he looks towards the voice that cut across the room. A man looks at them from the back of the zamboni, waving a hand impatiently. Dean feels frozen, but Castiel’s hands are pushing at his chest and he realizes he has to move. 

“Sorry, we’re going,” he calls out, scrambling to his feet so quickly he damn near falls back again. He manages to balance himself and reaches for Castiel, tugging him up as well. They’re close to the exit, at least, so it only takes a few seconds for them to get off the ice. There’s a silence between them as they head into the locker room, but Dean doesn’t fully notice it with the way his mind is buzzing. 

_ If this was a movie, this is the moment where they’d kiss.  _

Where the fuck had that thought come from? He glances at Castiel from the corner of his eye, his stomach twisting. He’d just finished a game, a really good game, where he’d scored a lot of points. That led to adrenaline, and adrenaline meant he wasn’t thinking clearly, and kissing was on his mind because he’d been planning on a couple minutes with Lisa, and his brain just got all of that mixed up. That’s all that it is. 

“I didn’t get you in trouble, did I?” He’s looking over at Dean, but Dean is pretty sure his brain is short circuiting. Do Castiel’s eyes always look this big? Since when had Dean started noticing Cas’  _ eyes _ ? 

“What? Oh, no! No, uh, I don’t think he’ll say anything. It’ll be fine, fine and dandy.” Since when had Dean started saying fine and dandy?! Castiel gives him an odd look, studying him for a moment before he sits and starts to unlace his boots.  _ Pull yourself together, Winchester. _ Dean drops on the bench to do the same, trying to mentally push reset as hard as he can. He’s being ridiculous. It was a stereotypical, stupid, teenage movie moment, him falling on top of Castiel. Just because his mind jumped to kissing doesn’t mean he actually wants to kiss Cas. He’s overreacting. 

“I’m glad I got to come to the game.” Castiel’s voice breaks the silence between them, one Dean didn’t realize he was cultivating stewing in his own thoughts. 

“Me too. Maybe next time you can drag Sam out here too.” He kicks off his skates and tosses them in his locker, stuffing his feet back into his boots, not bothering to tie them this time either. 

“I’m sure I can convince him.” Castiel wanders towards the closet Dean took the skates from, hanging them back up before turning back to the other, stuffing his hands into his pockets. “I should probably get going, I told my little brother I’d help him with his diorama. I’ll see you tomorrow, though?” 

“Yeah, see you tomorrow.” Castiel nods, pausing for a moment like he might say something else before he gives Dean a small smile and heads for the door. It’s not until Dean’s hand starts to go numb where it’s tucked up under the strap of his bag that he realizes how long he’s been standing there staring after him.

***

Dean shifts the laptop on his legs, trying to angle the camera so him and Sam are even. “Stop shaking that around, you’re going to make me motion sick,” Bobby gripes. There’s a hoarseness to his voice that didn’t used to be there, making him sound even grainier through the speakers. 

“I’m just making sure you get to see my beautiful face.” Dean settles, leaning back against the wall. His Batman poster is directly behind them, giving him and Sam both a strange yellow crown that Dean can’t stop thinking looks a little bit like a butt. 

“I’m sorry, Bobby. He’s only gotten worse,” Sam says, grinning as Dean shoves at his shoulder, jostling the laptop again. 

“Keep it up and I’ll hang up on you.” Dean doubts that Bobby actually would, they’ve been trying to make time for a call for a few weeks now. Really, Dean’s been trying to convince his dad and Kate that he could take Sam on a drive out there, but they keep circling back to him not missing school. It starts more arguments than anything else, so he’s trying to content himself with a video call. It’s reassuring to see Bobby sitting up at his desk, considering when they’d left he’d still been in the hospital. He’s not back to himself completely yet, but it’s miles away from the limp, pale figure they’d hugged goodbye a few months ago. 

“I’ll keep him in line,” Sam promises, reaching over to pinch Dean’s leg. “How are you doing?” 

“Oh, I’m fine. Driving my physical therapist up the wall, I think. She keeps telling me not to get up without my walker but I don’t see why I should use it if I don’t need to.” Stubbornness seems to run in the family. Dean won’t admit it often, but he knows that he can be an obstinate asshole when he feels like it. Sam’s comes out in different ways, but Dean knows it’s there. 

“No, Bobby, I don’t know why your physical therapist would tell you to do something you don’t need to do, it must just be a torture tactic.” Sam mutters, rolling his eyes. 

“Don’t you start lecturing me too, I didn’t call to get told off. How are you two doing? Your dad feeding you? Making sure you get to school?” 

“Sam’s making sure I go to school. I’m his ride and he can’t stand being late. He’s a real pain in the ass, were we this bad when we lived with you?” Dean already knows the answer, he lived there too. Even when they were little, Sam was anxious to get to school. It helped Bobby out, having someone else to harass Dean into getting going in the morning. 

“You sure were. It’s been quiet here without you two.” Bobby’s tone goes a little softer and Dean’s chest tightens. He lived with Bobby longer than he lived with his dad. It’s frustrating, he wasted so much time at Bobby’s lamenting the absence of his dad, but now that he’s here, he’s itching to be back with his uncle. It’s not like anything here is bad. He doesn’t love having John and Kate looking over his shoulder, and school sucks sometimes, but it would suck in South Dakota too. For a moment he lets himself wallow in the idea that he’ll never be happy, always stuck one place wishing he was somewhere else. 

“We miss you too,” Sam says softly. Dean shakes himself from his own pity, glancing at Sam. He probably misses Bobby even more than Dean does, he’s never really gotten along with their father and living here doesn’t seem to be making much of a difference in that regard. 

“We’ll have to get you two out here for Christmas.” Bobby nods firmly, and Dean feels a little better about his chances with his uncle on his side. “Your dad called me the other day. I don’t want to be starting anything, but it sounded like he might have been drinking.” Dean and Sam look at each other, Dean biting his lip. They weren’t going to mention it, it hasn’t been out of control and neither of them wanted to stress Bobby out while he’s still trying to get better, but they should have known he’d figure it out. 

“He has been a little, but it’s not like it was before,” Dean finally admits, and Bobby sighs heavily. 

“It’s not like it was before because we’re old enough to take care of ourselves now.” He knows Sam isn’t exactly on the same page as him about this, but he’d been hoping his brother was just going to let this go. 

“It’s not that bad, Sam. Really, it’s not. It’s a little obnoxious sometimes, but that’s it,” he promises, looking back to the screen. He didn’t notice the circles under Bobby’s eyes when they started the call, but he does look tired. The last thing he needs is to be worrying about him and Sam while they’re two states away and perfectly capable of taking care of themselves. 

“Well, if it gets any worse you boys are always welcome to come back here.” Bobby hadn’t been too fond of letting them go in the first place, and Dean thinks if his health hadn’t been where it was he would’ve put up more of a fight for them. He prefers to think that’s the case, anyway, that someone wanted to keep them around. 

“Thanks, Bobby. You just keep getting better. Listen to your doctors. And your physical therapist, please.” It’s the kind of plea that they both know is falling on deaf ears, but Dean appreciates that Sam tries. It is the most help they’ve ever seen Bobby accept in their lives, so maybe he will listen. 

“You keep dragging your brother’s ass to school,” Bobby replies, giving them a little grin. “I better be going, it’s about time for my show.” It’s an old Western that Dean loved to watch alongside Bobby, but he knows that the last few years most of the time Bobby just flipped it on and settled on the sofa for a nice afternoon nap. 

“We won’t keep you. Talk to you soon, okay?” Bobby nods, giving them a little wave before hanging up, the screen going dark and reflecting Sam and Dean’s faces back at them. Sam sighs softly, leaning into Dean’s side a little. 

“Do you really think dad’s drinking is just obnoxious?” His voice is soft, eyes trained on the laptop while he fiddles with the hem of his shirt. 

“I don’t know, Sammy. It sucks, but it’s like you said, we can take care of ourselves. We’ve got Kate here too, it’s not like we’re on our own.” Sam purses his lips, twisting a loose thread around his finger. 

“Didn’t she say he wasn’t drinking before, though?” 

“Maybe he was just doing a better job of hiding it then,” Dean offers, shrugging his shoulders. He knows what Sam’s implying. They show up, John starts drinking again. It’s crossed his mind too, but he’s tried to ignore it. He’s their dad, after all, Dean knows that he has to care about them, he just doesn’t always know the best ways to show it. Sam sighs, pulling his knees up and dropping his forehead against them. Dean lets the silence sit, pulling up his email and deleting all the junk, looking over when Sam unfolds and climbs off the bed. 

“I’m going to go run some drills with one of the guys from soccer, would you let Kate know I’m not going to be back for dinner?” 

“Again?” It’s been all week, Dean worries about Sam running himself ragged this way. He’s only a freshman, he has plenty of time to make his resume look good, but Dean has a hard time being the voice of reason when his own list of accomplishments for all four years is shorter than Sam’s for the last four weeks. 

“Yeah, again. I need to make varsity next year.” Sam shrugs, heading towards the door. 

“Just… try not to get murdered or anything,” Dean mutters, slumping back against the wall. He doesn’t want to tell Sam not to work hard, either. What’s Dean going to do tonight besides sit here and watch the same shitty movies he always does and fuck around on his phone? 

“I’ll try.” Sam hesitates in the door, fingers tapping against the frame before he shakes his head and disappears into the hall. It wouldn’t kill Dean to put in some effort, really. Slowly, he pushes himself up and finds his backpack, rifling through it. There’s one folder in here that every paper he’s gotten so far this year has been crammed into, but at least the most recent ones are towards the front. 

By the time Sam gets home that night, Dean’s already asleep. He doesn’t get to see his brother stop and look at the papers at his desk and smile. 

***

“Turn off the engine, they’re gonna hear us.” Lisa throws a glance over her shoulder at her house before turning back to Dean, hands grasping the front of his shirt. 

“It’s too cold.” Even with the heat on there’s a chill, and their breath is creating a thin film of steam on the windows. She looks over her shoulder again before nodding, wiggling across the bench seat to press closer to Dean’s side, arms coming around his neck as she leans in to kiss him. She must have put on more of whatever was on her lips when Dean picked her up, they’re sticky and sweet again. 

“You should pick a longer movie next time,” she sighs, twisting to face Dean a little more, a hand in the back of his hair. 

“We don’t have to leave when it ends,” he points out. They spent the whole time doing this anyway, it’s not like either of them did a great job of following the film. Lisa giggles and nods, pulling herself closer and descending on Dean’s lips again. He slides a hand around her waist, ignoring his phone when it buzzes against his thigh. A few seconds later, it buzzes again and he breaks the kiss, shifting to pull it out. “Gotta see if it’s my brother,” he explains, squinting at the bright screen as it shines up at him. Lisa glances down at his phone as well, raising an eyebrow. 

“Castiel? Isn’t that your weird friend?” The phone buzzes again in Dean’s hand, but he tucks it back into his pocket. 

“Yeah, I guess he is kind of weird.” Not that Dean thinks it’s a bad thing, but Castiel certainly does have his quirks. 

“I heard that he’s gay,” Lisa says, wrinkling her nose up a little. “Is that why you don’t kiss me in front of him?” Dean stiffens, pulling his hands away from Lisa and sitting back in his seat. 

“What do you mean?” 

“You’ve done it like, the last three times he’s been around.” Lisa sits back as well, smoothing a hand over her hair. 

“Must just be a coincidence,” Dean mutters, shrugging his shoulders, reaching to rest his hands on the steering wheel, thumbs drumming lightly against it. 

“No, it’s definitely on purpose. You did it again yesterday at the end of the day.” Lisa glances towards her house as one of the windows lights up before looking back to Dean. “Do you think he has a crush on you or something? You don’t have to protect his feelings, it’s his fault for being that way.” 

“What do you mean, being that way?” He doesn’t like where this conversation is going. He wasn’t really looking for any conversation tonight, if he’s honest. A movie and making out, neither things that really required Dean to use his brain too hard. He just wanted to relax, but there’s a heavy pit sitting in his stomach. “Maybe I just don’t want to kiss you all the time.” It comes out a little sharper than he intends, and Lisa scoffs, pushing herself towards the door.

“Well, you don’t have to be an asshole about it.” Another light flicks on in the house and Dean can’t help but hope one of her parents is going to appear and call her in so he can avoid having to think of anything else to say about it. 

“I’m not being an asshole, I just want a break sometimes. This is fine but I have other friends.” He’s digging himself into a hole, he can feel it. Lisa’s expression is stormy as she turns to him, folding her arms across her chest. 

“Excuse me for thinking you were into this. I didn’t realize I was such an embarrassment to you in front of your little friends.” She pushes the door open, welcoming a blast of chilly air. “If I didn’t know any better I’d think you were the one with a crush.” The thought makes Dean’s chest go tight. Unbidden, the memory of Castiel laying under him on the ice flashes behind his eyes.  _ If this was a movie, this is the moment where they’d kiss.  _

“You know what? Fuck you, Lisa. You’re not better than anyone for being jealous of my friends.” It’s defensive and sharp, words cutting between them. He keeps his eyes trained on the steering wheel, afraid that if he meets Lisa’s gaze she’ll be able to see that she struck a nerve. 

“Yeah, well fuck you too Dean.” She climbs out of the door, hand grasping the top of it as she leans down to look back in at the other. “Don’t bother texting me again.” Dean maintains his staring contest with the steering wheel, letting her glare burn into the side of his face before she gives up and slams the door shut hard enough to make the car rock. 

He doesn’t wait for her to get the front door, cranking up the volume on his radio and tearing off down the street. He doesn’t have a crush on Castiel, that’s ridiculous. Not wanting to make everyone else uncomfortable sucking face around them all the time doesn’t mean that he’s being an asshole. He wasn’t even sure he really wanted to go anywhere with Lisa, he was just having fun. He’s allowed to have fun, he’s 18 and finishing high school and figuring shit out. Everyone was going to leave next year anyway, what did it matter what he did?

Between the screaming of his music and the roar of the engine, Dean’s head is pounding when he gets home. He’d wasted half an hour winding through the streets, half considering heading to the highway and seeing how far he could get. He’s got an entire $30 in his wallet, he could fuel up one time, get a couple towns away, and then what? It’s not like he could leave Sam here alone, and he knows Adam would be hurt by it too. He spends another ten minutes just sitting in the car outside, letting the cold seep in. Once his fingers are numb he decides that’s probably enough wallowing, climbing out of the car and dragging himself inside. 

It’s quiet and mostly dark, though the glow of the television illuminates John asleep in his recliner. Dean doesn’t have to look to know there’s a beer on the table next to him. He kicks off his shoes and heads up the stairs, not bothering to be quiet about it. Jacket hung over the back of his chair and jeans in a pile on the floor, he’s ready to drop into bed, but his stupid shirt still smells like cherry blossom kiss and it’s just enough to make him feel like he could scream as he tears it off. 

One brief, very hot shower later and Dean finds himself in fresh pajamas and finally under the blankets. The warm water had knocked away the chill of the night, but it’s still cozy climbing into bed and wrapping himself up. He gets settled in, but sleep still feels impossibly far away. Rolling over, he grabs his phone, suddenly remembering the messages from Castiel. He’d never actually checked them earlier. 

Cas:  **Whatever you said to Gabriel yesterday made him pull out his lightsabers.**

Cas:  **Your secret is out. I’d like to remind you that you made fun of me for Ghost Rider when your favorite Star Wars film is, apparently, The Phantom Menace. I think we’re more than even.**

Cas:  **Also, Gabriel broke a vase.**

The last message is a picture of the vase, Gabriel sitting next to it staring petulantly up into the camera with a red plastic lightsaber in his lap. It’s a lot like those dog-shaming pictures Dean’s seen going around, he’s surprised that Gabriel doesn’t have a sign hanging around his neck detailing his crimes. Despite how crummy he’s still feeling, Dean smiles a little. 

Dean:  **You guys just don’t appreciate a good storyline. Besides, being Star Wars and not having Nick Cage means my movie still automatically wins.**

It’s late enough he doesn’t really expect a reply, surprised when his phone buzzes next to him a few minutes later. 

Cas:  **i didn’t realize cas still watched ghost rider, thank you for the information**

Cas:  **important phantom menace interest level update**

The next message is another picture. Gabriel’s grinning, Castiel’s head laying on his shoulder, mouth hanging open slightly. He looks so peaceful without the concern that always seems to be tugging at the corners of his eyes. 

Cas:  **when they find my body let them know cas did it**

It’s the same kind of thing Dean would pull on Sam. That’s why he and Gabriel had gotten along so well even when they were young, probably also what got them into trouble. Now that he’s thinking about it, it’s probably a good thing that Dean left when he did, he couldn’t imagine the kind of mischief they might have gotten up to if they had grown up together. 

Dean:  **Will do. Been nice knowing you, buddy**

All this talk of the movie has Dean itching to watch it now, so he grabs his laptop and settles in, propping it up next to him. Every so often he checks his phone again, but Gabriel seems to be done for the night, or Castiel really has murdered him. He finally gives up and leaves his phone be, wrapping himself back up in his blankets and settling in to let the movie slowly lull him to sleep. 

The picture Gabriel sent is still floating in the back of the mind, and that has to be the only reason Dean dreams about being the one Castiel’s leaning against. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Star Wars fans, don't at me I have seen two of these movies and I literally just googled which movie is the worst and took the first answer that popped up


	7. Chapter 7

“Yes, I will be assigning your partners. No, you cannot argue. It’s the only time I do this to you all year, you can live with it.” A collective groan makes its way around the room. Castiel participates, not because he really cares who he gets partnered with but just because he doesn’t feel like doing much work today. Mr. Shurley shakes his head, pulling out a piece of paper and starting to call out pairs. Really, none of them are terrible mixes, Castiel thinks that Mr. Shurley just wants one good group assignment a year out of them and he’s not going to get it unless there are certain people he can keep apart. “Balthazar and Charlie,” he calls out, and both of them huff. 

Castiel feels for Charlie, Balthazar almost always buddies up with him and Castiel does most of the work. Balthazar isn’t stupid, he just really doesn’t care much for anything outside his interests, and literature happens to be one of those things that puts him to sleep. “This is going to be awful,” Balthazar complains, dropping his head to the desk. “Last time I tried to work with Charlie she made me write half the paper myself and then replaced it before we turned it in.” 

“Thaz, you’re supposed to do half the work in your group,” Castiel points out. He sends a quick glance around the classroom, mildly curious to see who he’s going to be paired with considering his normal partner has been taken. He doesn’t have to wait long to find out. 

“Castiel and Dean,” Mr. Shurley states with a wave of his pen before checking them off his list. Dean looks back over his shoulder, grinning at Castiel, who can’t help but grin back. He’s gotten over the little pity party he threw when he saw Dean and Lisa. He’d just needed a little time to mope and get his head right, remind himself that Dean is his friend and that mattered more than Castiel’s stupid crush. That doesn’t mean he goes without noticing how particularly striking Dean looks in his maroon shirt today, how much more it brings out the brilliant emerald of his eyes, but he can push the thought away after a moment instead of getting all wrapped up in it. Balthazar makes another noise, reaching over to tug at Castiel’s sleeve. 

“We should ask if we can switch. Charlie likes Dean more than me, anyway, and you like me more than Dean. It’ll be perfect, Cassie,” Balthazar pleads. 

“He already said we can’t ask.” Balthazar frowns and drops his head against his desk with a sigh. Castiel settles back in his seat, pressing his lips together. He does well enough in class if anyone was going to be able to suck up and get groups changed, it would probably be him. He doesn’t think he wants to, though. It’s probably good for Balthazar to work with someone else who twists his arm into participating. Mr. Shurley finishes off the list of names and starts to hand out the assignment, explaining it as he goes. They’ve got all week to work on it, which Castiel is feeling especially grateful for today. 

It might be the weather that’s making him feel so unmotivated. They’ve finally had a solid snow storm hit, one that sticks and leaves a few inches instead of serving only to make everything a slushy mess. It’s still snowing softly now. Castiel could see himself losing this entire class to watching the slow descent of the flakes outside the window. He’s already gone, eyes glazing over as he studies the shimmering field of white, untouched snow in the courtyard. It would be demolished when the first lunch hour came, but for now it’s pristine and smooth. There’s something profoundly peaceful about the winter that he loves, he doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to live somewhere that they didn’t have days like this. 

Snow days were always exciting, but when he was little they’d been something extra special. There’s a hill just a few blocks from his house that his mother would let them go sledding on whenever there was a storm. It was the first place he remembers being allowed to go without his parents, Michael and Luke proudly leading the way. He realizes now that it's probably only because his mother could see the hill from her window, but they’d felt unbridled freedom those days. Out in the snow, time stopped, and they felt invincible. There’s another tug at his sleeve and he waves his hand, shaking his head. “Stop it, Balthazar, I told you it’s not going to happen.” 

“Ooh, what’s not going to happen? This sounds interesting.” Castiel looks up, surprised to see Dean where the other was just a few moments ago. Now that he’s paying attention, he realizes everyone is moving. He must’ve missed the call to action. 

“He was trying to get me to pawn you off on Charlie instead.” Castiel slides out of his desk, scooting it up next to Dean’s. It makes a terrible noise scraping across the floor, adding to the cacophony of everyone else doing the same thing. 

“Rude,” Dean replies, glancing across the room at the other two before looking back to Castiel, flipping his notebook open. “Thanks for not selling me off,” he adds, giving the other a small grin before scrawling Dean W. and Cas N. at the top of the page. 

“You have to put my whole name or he won’t accept it.” He’s not particularly attached to his nickname, but he doesn’t really understand why some teachers get so stuck on not letting him use it. 

“Oh yeah, no problem.” Dean scratches out Cas and starts to write again. When he’s done, Castiel’s eyebrow quirks up.  _ Casteel. _

“That’s not how you spell it.” Dean stares down at the paper for a moment before grinning and nodding. 

“I know, I was just messing with you.” He crosses it out again, pen hesitating over the paper before he writes again, throwing a glance at Castiel once he’s done.  _ Castele.  _ He can’t hide the little grin pulling at the corner of his lips, shaking his head. 

“You don’t know how to spell my name. Should I be offended?” It’s not like Dean has to spell his name often, or at all, Castiel isn’t even positive Dean’s ever seen it, but he doesn’t get many opportunities to make Dean flustered. 

“No, no, I can spell it. I’m just-” He cuts off, scratching out the name a little more aggressively this time. He writes the first three letters with confidence, wiggling the pen between his fingers before he tries to finish it off again.  _ Casteal. _ He glances at Castiel again, surveying his expression before adding another e on the end, looking back hopefully. 

“You can’t! You don’t know how to spell my name! I thought we were friends, Dean.” Castiel watches as Dean’s cheeks go red and he looks down at the paper again. 

“Well, how do you spell it?” he finally mutters, scratching out the most recent attempt. 

“Oh, I’m not telling you now.” 

“What?!” Dean’s jaw drops as he looks to Castiel. 

“I’m not telling you.” Dean frowns, turning to glance around them, reaching out to tap on the shoulder of the girl sitting closest. 

“Do you know how to spell Castiel’s name?” She frowns slightly as she turns back towards them, Castiel vigorously shaking his head. He doesn’t know if she knows anyway, he’s not sure they’ve ever really talked. Honestly, he’s not even certain he knows her name. Emily, maybe? She eyes them a moment longer before she shakes her head as well, turning back to her partner. Dean looks affronted being turned down again, looking back to Cas. “If you don’t tell me we can’t turn this in.” 

“We have a week, I’m pretty sure I can make you suffer for at least a day.” Castiel blames it on not wanting to do any work today and not that Dean looks especially cute with a flush on his face. Despite the fact he’s still noticing these things all the time, he’s doing a better job of not letting it get under his skin. 

“I had no idea you had this in you, Cas,” Dean says, shaking his head and settling back, tapping the pen against his lip, and Castiel turns his attention to a spot on his desk rather than letting himself get pulled in to looking at those luscious pink lips. “Oh! I’ll just ask Charlie, she has to know.” Dean pushes himself up and heads across the room. Charlie looks cross from the moment Dean approaches, shooting a glance across the room at Castiel before shaking her head. Balthazar follows her lead, probably trying to stay as close to Charlie’s good side as he can get, if Castiel has to guess. Dean sulks back across the room, dropping himself in the seat again. 

“She didn’t tell you.” He doesn’t think she would have held it back if she wasn’t already in a mood, but something about it just spurs Castiel on. 

“No, she said if I wanted to know I should ask you.” He stares pointedly, holding Castiel’s gaze for a few seconds before he sighs heavily and slumps back in his seat, folding his arms over his chest. Castiel didn’t think they’d get to pouting quite this fast, but what Dean’s doing can’t be described as much else. 

“If I make you work for it then you’ll remember it next time.” 

“I’ll remember it now! Cross my heart.” He does just that, a lazy swipe of his finger over his chest, turning his big green eyes on Castiel again. 

“Good, you’ll remember after I tell you tomorrow too.” 

“I’m going to figure it out before that. Someone will tell me.” Dean sits up straighter, looking a little more determined. 

“That almost sounds like a challenge, Dean.” Something lights in Dean’s eyes. Castiel’s definitely noticed a competitive streak in the other and that’s all it seems to take to turn this from teasing into a game. 

“If it’s a challenge, we have to make it interesting. I figure it out by the end of the day and you have to write up the presentation yourself. If I don’t then I owe you lunch.” 

“That’s hardly a fair trade.” Not that Castiel really minds either way, Dean knows this is his favorite class and he’s probably going to do most of the work in their project himself anyway, when he feels a little more like working. 

“You don’t want me in charge of the presentation. That’s like another loss for you.” Castiel rolls his eyes, glancing down at the hand Dean’s holding out in front of him. Slowly he reaches out to grasp it, shaking it once. 

“Fine. I’m looking forward to our lunch.” 

“Hope you’re planning on bringing your wallet, then,” Dean says as he pushes himself up from the chair. He’s got a particularly smug look on his face as he starts towards Mr. Shurley’s desk. Castiel is quick to follow once he realizes what he’s doing, both of them stopping in front of the teacher. His hair looks as unkempt as Castiel feels like his own always does, and it makes him wonder for a moment if that means his own hair isn’t ever going to get any better once he grows up. 

“Can I help you boys?” Just standing near his desk Castiel can smell coffee, like it’s permeated every surface here. He forgets sometimes, the scent is so regular in the classroom, it’s a surprise that it can get stronger. 

“Yeah, Castiel won’t tell me how to spell his name, and I need it so we can turn in the assignment.” 

“Are you turning it in today?” Mr. Shurley questions, settling back in his seat and pulling his glasses off so he can rub at his eyes. 

“Well, no-” 

“Then I’m not worried about it today. Go do some work.” Glasses back on, he rights himself at his computer, closing the window for any further conversation. Castiel wouldn’t say he’s a suck-up in this or any class, but he thinks Mr. Shurley understands him a little better than some of the other teachers. Dean starts back towards their desks, muttering something under his breath. 

“Thank you.” Mr. Shurley glances from the computer screen briefly, shaking his head. 

“You can go get some work done too, Cas.” Castiel nods, grinning a little to himself as he follows Dean back to their seats. 

“Either everyone really loves you or they really hate me,” Dean complains, slumped in his seat with his legs so far out under the desk Castiel has to step over them to get to his own chair. 

“I think it’s more likely they’re all indifferent to both of us.” Actually, there’s a much larger population that favors Dean. Castiel gets it, he’s handsome and charming and friendly. There’s not a lot of people who don’t seem to get along with him. In fact, Castiel can really only think of Cole as anyone who’s been less than friendly with Dean. Castiel’s own anonymity is working for him today. Not enough people know him well enough to know how to spell his name or to care why Dean is asking. 

“Nah, everyone likes you, you just don’t notice it.” Dean drums his fingers against the desk, glancing at the clock. “It’s only first hour, I've still got plenty of time to win.” Castiel glances up at the clock as well, still turning over that last comment in his mind. Dean must be seeing something Castiel isn’t. He’s got his little group of friends, and they’re wonderful. He doesn’t really want for a whole lot more outside of them, and it’s always seemed to him that was a good thing because everyone else only saw him as an outlier. 

“We both have exactly the same amount of time to lose or win.” It’s just a fact, Castiel doesn’t expect the peal of laughter it earns from Dean. Mr. Shurley looks up from his desk and clears his throat, giving them a pointed look. 

“You’re a riot, Cas. Anyone ever tell you that?” 

“No.” Dean snorts out another laugh, throwing a glance back at Mr. Shurley’s desk. “Perhaps you’re just easily entertained.” 

“Oh yes, perhaps I am,” Dean replies, imitating Castiel in a stiff voice before melting back into an easy grin. He throws another glance at the clock, starting to scoot his desk back into place. It earns Mr. Shurley’s attention again, but this time he stands and tells the rest of the class to do the same thing. The bell can barely be heard over the sound of desks and chairs scraping back into place.

Dean hurries out of the classroom, and Castiel is pretty sure he knows why. It’s not hard to guess Dean’s technique, all the teachers definitely know how to spell his name and most of them don’t have a particular alliance either way. Castiel follows quickly, tailing Dean into the next classroom. He’s already at the desk, the teacher looking over Dean’s shoulder in surprise as Castiel bustles in. He’s not in this hour, but he has her a little later for biology. 

“Don’t tell him how to spell my name,” Castiel blurts, a little breathless as he shoulders passed another student to get up to the desk. She looks between them, raising an eyebrow. 

“I’m not getting involved,” she states after a moment. “Unless you’d like to discuss your last quiz grade, Mr. Winchester.” Dean squirms a little before he shakes his head and takes a step back. Castiel grins and gives him a little wave before he hurries out of the room towards his own class. 

He didn’t realize that he had Dean’s schedule memorized as well as his own until today. Every class is a race, getting to the teacher as quickly as possible so Castiel can plead his case. The one teacher Castiel thinks might tell Dean sides with Cas after Dean knocks over a chair trying to pull Castiel out of the way. At lunch, Dean patrols the cafeteria, harassing anyone he can find, but by some miracle they’ve all seen the interruptions at the beginning of class and decide not to share. 

The last class of the day, Castiel hustles in a few seconds after the bell, sliding into his seat. The teacher glances at him and shakes his head, but turns back to the board without a word. “You know, you need to be careful,” Balthazar says lowly from his seat next to Castiel. 

“What? You’re late all the time.” Balthazar looks unamused as he turns to Cas, shaking his head. 

“Not that. This thing you’re doing with Dean.” 

“I don’t know what you mean.” 

“You know he has a girlfriend, right?” Heat burns in Castiel’s cheeks suddenly, his chest going tight. 

“Yeah, so? He can still be my friend,” Castiel mutters, settling his chin in his hand and staring down at the desk. 

“I’m not blind, Cassie.” Castiel presses his lips into a thin line, shaking his head a little. He’s had a good day, he doesn’t want to ruin it by overthinking things here. He knows how he feels and he can keep it under control. Maybe he needs to work a little harder at that, if he’s being so transparent, but he can do it. Balthazar sighs heavily, shaking his head. “I just don’t want to see you end up hurt over this.” 

“I can take care of myself,” Castiel snaps. A dismayed expression crosses Balthazar’s face, quickly masked by a sneer, but not fast enough to hide it entirely. 

“Fine then, act like that. Shame on me for trying to care.” Balthazar slams his notebook open, starting to scribble furiously. Castiel watches him for a moment, considering apologizing, but he doing so feels like an admission he’s not ready to make. Instead he pulls open his own notebook, a considerable damper on the giddiness the day has brought him. 

Tension hangs heavy between them, sitting on Castiel’s chest. He doesn’t hear most of what the teacher says, staring down at the small circle he keeps tracing over in the corner of the page. He knows that Balthazar is just looking out for him. They  _ are _ best friends, after all. They’d even tried dating, once upon a time. It was a short lived venture; they’d both realized within a few days that just because they were the two guys out in their class doesn’t mean that they should date. Friendship works much better for them, and Castiel would hate to ruin that because he can’t handle Balthazar pointing out the truth. 

They’re set to do their own work now, chatter washing over the classroom. Balthazar remains silent, lips pressed in a stern line. Castiel lets them sit for another moment before he sighs, nudging the other with his elbow. Balthazar doesn’t acknowledge him, keeping his eyes trained down. He can be amazingly stubborn when he’s given the opportunity, and Castiel feels like he deserves it this time. “I shouldn’t have snapped at you.” Balthazar’s head lifts slightly at this offer, though he still declines to look at the other. “I know that you’re just looking out for me.” 

“I am.” Balthazar finally spares Castiel a glance, eyebrow quirked. “I know what it’s like falling for a straight boy. You remember last summer, don’t you?” It’s hard to forget, Balthazar had called him from France at ungodly hours in the morning to tell him his tale. Every time he would apologize, saying the time difference had slipped his mind but he just needed to talk for a minute and Castiel would be up for the next two hours. They’d racked up an impressive international phone bill along the way, especially considering Balthazar had needed consoling every night for two weeks. He was lucky it was an amenity his father didn’t mind paying for and Castiel didn’t mind being nocturnal for a little while. 

“I remember. But I’m… I’m handling it. I promise. He’s just my friend. I appreciate you making sure I’ve got my head on straight, though.” He does, even if he’s reluctant to admit it. He might not want to be so transparent in his feelings, but at least he knows Balthazar has his back regardless. Crisis avoided, the rest of class slips by uneventfully, and Balthazar makes sure to give Castiel a hug before he heads out the door. 

The snow still drifting down outside bolsters Castiel’s mood once more. It is far from untouched now, marred with footprints and snow angels that have accumulated over the day. It’s still a nice sight, though, and the flakes in the air add to the sense of calm Castiel thrives on in these moments. He wanders towards his car, unlocking it and throwing his bag into the backseat before he stops just to admire the snow again. 

“Cas!” When he finds the source of the voice, he’s not surprised to see it’s Dean. He’s half-jogging across the parking lot, waving a piece of paper over his head. “I can spell it!” 

“I think our bet was before the end of the day, though, and the bell already rang.” Castiel turns, leaning against the car. “We could call it a tie.” 

“Your middle name is Jimmy? With a first name like Castiel I never would’ve guessed.” Castiel’s eyebrows lift in surprise. Dean has attention now, he’s not sure where the other would have heard his middle name. 

“How do you-” 

“Born July 10th in none other than Lawrence, Kansas. If Sammy was here he could tell me what your star sign is or whatever.” Pushing away from the car, Castiel strains to see what exactly the paper in Dean’s hand says. “You know, I always pegged you as a straight-A’s kind of guy, but I’m learning a lot here.” 

“What, did you go steal my school records or something?” Castiel scoffs, reaching for the paper only for Dean to yank it out of reach up over his head again, head tilted back so he can look at it. 

“Yes.” The answer takes a moment to sink in, but once it does it gives Castiel pause, frozen with his hand in the air reaching after the paper. 

“You stole my school records?” Maybe Dean misunderstood him the first time. 

“Yes. You were being stubborn and it’s pretty easy, most of the offices don’t keep their doors locked.” Dean shrugs his shoulders, glancing up at the paper again. “C-a-s-t-i-e-l. Now I know.” Castiel glances up at the paper as well, eyebrow arched. For a brief moment, he finds himself concerned with the principle of the operation. Strictly speaking, records have a lot of information that shouldn’t necessarily be easy access and should probably be under a tighter lock than one that Dean can just waltz through. Then again, the very idea that Dean even thought to try this just to learn how to spell Castiel’s name was an interesting act in itself. 

“You’re a dork.” That gets Dean’s attention, his gaze turning back to Castiel. 

“I am not.” 

“You just broke into the office to steal my records, I think that makes you a dork.” Dean’s eyes narrow slowly, a playful smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. 

“Oh yeah? Would a dork do this?” He crouches suddenly, gathering a handful of snow and lobbing it at Castiel, hitting him directly in the chest. He stumbles back, stunned for a moment before he finds himself grinning as well, quick to scoop up some snow himself. 

“Yes, and it takes one to know one, doesn’t it?” His aim isn’t quite as good, but he still manages to smack Dean in the shoulder. That’s all it takes to incite battle, Dean grabbing handful after handful of snow and hurling it at Castiel, chasing him between cars. Castiel retaliates when he can, but he’s not quite as coordinated, focusing instead on dodging and leading them out of the parking lot. Teen drivers and snowy roads weren't the best place to be darting around like they were, and he breathes a little easier once they hit the field, even though his cover is now gone. 

He has a large handful of snow he keeps adding too every time he takes refuge, and Dean is closer than he expected when he turns to throw it. It hits him square in the face, bringing him to a pause as he tries to blink the snow out of his eyes. “Oh, that’s it!” An apology is half out of Castiel’s mouth but it’s cut off when Dean’s suddenly grabbing him, arms coming around the tops of his legs. Before Castiel knows what’s happening, he’s being hoisted over Dean’s shoulder, letting out a shout of surprise. “You’re going in the snow pile,” Dean announces cheerfully, marching back towards the school. 

There’s a sizable mound where they’d dumped snow they cleared from the sidewalks for the students coming out. Castiel is pretty sure that’s where they’re headed, but he’s having a hard time thinking clearly slung over Dean’s shoulder, hands grasping at the back of his shirt while he makes a valiant effort not to notice how close Dean’s hands are to his ass. “Take it back.” 

“What?” Castiel’s lost all sense of the conversation, trying to pick his head up a little but afraid to do too much squirming. Dean could drop him, or worse, Castiel could hurt him. It’s not like he’s  _ small _ , he’s still surprised how easily Dean lifted him. 

“Say I’m not a dork and I won’t drop you in the snow pile.” There’s been nothing to indicate Dean wouldn’t stick to his word, but Castiel feels like he’s not terribly invested in fighting fair today, either. 

“But you are a dork.” Blood is rushing to Castiel’s head, making his whole body feel slightly out of proportion. He shifts a little again, but Dean just tightens his grip around Castiel’s legs. 

“Last chance, buddy.” Castiel takes a moment to consider it. Perhaps he can be stubborn himself. He didn’t say anything that wasn’t true, and even without stealing his records, Castiel thinks Dean has more dork in him than he’s willing to admit. 

“Either drop me or deal with it, Winchester. You’re a dork.” There’s one more moment of hesitation and Castiel thinks he may get his way, but then the world is cartwheeling by again and he lands back in the snow with a crunch. Dean stands over him, ruffled, shirt pulled askew, eyelashes still dotted with drops of melted snow, little huffs of breath creating small clouds in front of his face. He’s so stunned it takes a moment to realize that Dean has moved, his brain slow to catch up and realize that he’s on his knees next to Castiel, shoveling snow over his stomach. 

“If you want to keep calling me a dork, I’ll bury you out here.” He’s grinning as he pushes another scoop of snow on top of Castiel. He’d worn a heavy sweatshirt today, well aware he probably should’ve grabbed more but too unmotivated to turn back around get anything else in the house. The snow soaks it through quickly, chilling his skin within moments.

“I’m not the only one who knows that you’re a dork though!” Castiel protests, trying to sit up, knocking some of the snow off his chest and reaching up to brush off the rest. Dean’s not much better dressed than him, that slightly too large leather jacket he always wears hanging over a flannel and a faded Led Zeppelin t-shirt. When he reaches out to help dust some of the snow from Castiel’s shoulders, he notices the angry red of Dean’s skin. Most of the cars are gone from the parking lot behind them, the gray clouds overhead making it impossible to tell how far away nightfall was. How long had they actually spent chasing each other around? “Can we call it a truce?” He holds a hand, not too surprised to see it’s red and swollen too. Dean considers it for a moment before nodding and shaking his hand, fingers feeling icy even with the chill settling over Castiel. 

“Truce. I’ll even buy you lunch tomorrow.” They climb to their feet, dusting off snow as they go. The cold is starting to get to Castiel now, his sweater heavy and wet against his skin. 

“Since you lost the bet?” 

“No, I won, but I’m being generous.” Castiel scoffs, hugging his arms around himself as they shuffle back towards the cars. His jeans are soaked through as well, and he’s ended up with an enormous amount of snow in his left sock as well. 

“So you’re telling me I’m stuck doing the whole project on my own?” 

“I’ll be there for moral support.” They come to a stop at Castiel’s car, his numb fingers fumbling around in his pocket for his keys. After a moment he realizes he doesn’t need them, he’d already unlocked the car and put his bag inside. In fact, the door is still standing ajar. Any hope Castiel had of the car having any lingering warmth inside is dashed, he’s going to freeze on the way home. 

“We can talk about it tomorrow, I’m too cold to think right now,” Castiel admits, shivering as he bumps the back door closed with his hip and tugs the driver’s side open. The paper Dean had been waving around is laying in the footprints next to it, and Castiel knows he should probably try to pick it up and take it with him but he’s just going to depend on the snow to destroy everything important. Already the ink is running and illegible across the top half of the page, and if he remembers he’ll try to run it over on his way out. 

“Tomorrow,” Dean agrees, stuffing his hands into his jacket, looking like the cold is getting to him finally as well. “Drive safe, alright?” It’s an incredibly sweet sentiment, and Castiel has to fight from grinning too wide. 

“Yeah, you too.” Dean nods and shuffles off towards his car. Castiel doesn’t spend long watching, climbing into his own. He needs the keys to start the car, and it takes another few seconds of fumbling to get them out. He can hear the roar of Dean’s engine starting up behind him, remarkably smooth for this weather. Castiel’s car doesn’t seem to be taking it all so well, sputtering once he finally gets the key in the ignition. 

He’s lucky to even have a car, he knows it, and it runs pretty well most of the time, but it is older and the cold can make it a little cranky from time to time. He gives it a moment, rubbing his hands together and blowing on them in hopes of creating any heat at all. It doesn’t make much of a difference, and his fingers are still clumsy and stiff as he reaches to turn the key again. The engine sputters once more, sounding nowhere near catching. In fact, Castiel’s never heard it this bad before. Almost as if leaving the back door hanging open for the better part of an hour had drained the battery, something that might not have been such a terrible toll if it wasn’t freezing on top of that. After one more try, the engine coughing before dying out even more quickly this time, Castiel sighs and drops his forehead to the steering wheel. 

Running around in the snow seemed fun, but he’s starting to have some regrets now. His teeth started chattering at some point without him noticing, but now they’re so loud he can hardly think. It pairs well with the shivers plaguing him, running up and down his body. He could walk home, but it would be miserable. A sharp rap on the window makes him jump, surprised to see Dean standing outside. Castiel cracks the door open just a sliver, reluctant to let out any heat his body has generated.

“Car troubles?” Dean’s car is still idling behind him, Castiel hadn’t noticed that the other was still, too preoccupied with trying to get his own car to work. 

“It d-doesn’t do too well in the cold.” Or when he leaves the door open for an hour for a snowball fight, but he’s fine blaming the weather for now. 

“Come on, I’ll give you a ride.” Dean tugs the door open. There’s a fleeting moment where Castiel considers insisting that he can just call Gabriel, but he’s losing feeling in his fingertips and toes and any option that gets him warm faster sounds like the best choice. He nods and climbs out, stuffing his keys back in his pocket and pushing the door shut behind him this time, following Dean. Opening the door, he’s immediately welcomed by a blast of warm air, clamoring in quickly and holding his fingers up to the vent. 

“Sorry.” Dean sounds sheepish as he joins Castiel, pulling his door shut quickly as well. “Didn’t mean to freeze you out.” Castiel shakes his head, finding he has an instinct to deny that he’s even cold, a pretty stupid instinct considering his teeth are still slamming together so hard he’s surprised he hasn’t bitten his tongue off. 

“It’s not that b-bad, my car does this every s-storm. I sh-should’ve known.” The numbness in his fingers is being replaced with a bright pain instead, so quickly going from feeling frozen to feeling on fire, but Castiel doesn’t move his hands from the vents, flexing his fingers carefully. 

“Not that bad my ass. Here, my place is closer, we’ll stop there first and get you something dry to put on.” Dean doesn’t wait for an answer, already shifting gears and starting out towards the street. A warm, dry shirt sounds so heavenly right now Castiel just nods and keeps his mouth shut, the chattering of his teeth starting to slow. It’s not a long drive to Dean’s house, radio playing low in the background. By the time they pull up, Castiel can almost feel all of his fingers again, though the sopping sweater still leeching any warmth from his core is taking a toll. 

A small boy, about Samandriel’s size, greets them at the door, sliding across the hardwood in fluffy slipper socks. “Dean! Mom said we could make hot chocolate when you got home.” He must be Adam, Castiel’s heard enough about him to put the dots together. 

“Sweet. I’m just gonna get Cas a shirt and we’ll be right back down, okay?” Dean kicks off his boots, and Castiel wriggles his feet out of his loafers, relieved to have the chance to dry out his socks. Dean ruffles Adam’s hair affectionately as he passes, leading Castiel up the stairs. The car had been warm and the house is even warmer, though Castiel’s toes are stubbornly remaining numb and icy. Adam’s slipper socks look amazing too and Castiel makes a mental note to see if Gabriel happens to have any lying around when he gets home. 

Dean’s door has a name tag stuck haphazardly on the front, one of the generic, ‘Hello, my name is ___’ with his name inexplicably written backwards across the line. The corner is ripped like someone had tried to peel it back off without much success. “Sorry, it’s kind of a mess in here,” Dean warns as he pushes the door open. “I wasn’t expecting company.” Honestly, Castiel expects worse as they step inside. There’s a pile of clothes on the floor, books and papers spread across the desk, and the sheets hang unmade off the side of his bed, but it’s nothing terrible. He’s more interested in all the other things in the room that scream Dean’s personality. The Batman poster hanging above his bed, the colorful spread of what Castiel is surprised to recognize as Vonnegut novels stacked up on his shelf, several pictures pinned up on the wall behind his desk. Castiel wanders towards those while Dean heads to the closet to rummage around. 

Most of the pictures are Dean and Sam. There’s a handful that show Dean a few years younger, face a little skinnier, making his big eyes stand out even more. It’s almost jarring to look at the ones where Sam is actually shorter than Dean, and how little time seems to have passed between those and the ones where Sam’s got a few inches on him. Adam appears in some of the newer ones, and there’s even one with John and all three of the boys. One shows Sam and Dean standing with a slightly grizzled older man, baseball cap casting a shadow over his face but there’s a little smile that’s still visible there, looking pleased as punch with his arms around both of their shoulders. 

“That’s Bobby.” Castiel almost jumps when Dean appears at his shoulder, looking at the picture as well. “That’s from… two years ago, I think. Sam’s first and last hunting trip, he hated it, but we still had a good time.” The look on Dean’s face is painfully wistful, but it melts away so fast Castiel wonders if he imagined it. “Here, you can change into this. We can throw your clothes in the dryer for a bit if you want to stick around for hot chocolate. Adam’s probably already put a bag of marshmallows in a cup for you.” 

“Thank you, I think I might.” Dean grins and hands over a plush hoodie with a large cartoon falcon on the front, complete with giant ice skates on his feet. 

“It’s my old hockey team. Frontier Falcons. Never understood why, but it wasn’t the worst mascot to have.” Castiel grins and nods, starting to peel off his sweater. It’s a relief just to get the cold fabric away from his skin, the ambient air in the room warm comparatively. The hoodie is soft as he pulls it over his head, bringing with a piney scent that Castiel knows is just Dean. 

“Gabriel’s pee-wee basketball team was the Bouncing Bunnies.” It’s the sort of name that seems impossible not to make fun of, even for little kids. He runs a hand over his hair, trying to get most of it to go in one direction before he turns to Dean. He thinks there’s a hint of red on his cheeks that wasn’t there before, but it must just be him warming up. 

“Sam always lucked out, his last soccer league’s mascot was a wolf. A wolf! Way cooler than a falcon or a bunny. At least we’re both stuck with the same thing now. I wonder how many schools in the world have panther mascots, it’s pretty generic.” He shrugs and turns towards the door. “We only have about thirty seconds before Adam loses his mind, we better get back downstairs.” Castiel nods and looks around the room one more time. Even only spending a few minutes here, he feels like he’s gotten to know the other a little bit better. 

Sure enough, Adam is calling up the stairs for them by the time they step outside the door. “Hurry, my marshmallows are gonna melt before I can eat them!” He zips away from the stairs when he sees them, presumably towards the kitchen. 

“Sorry, he’s still working on patience.” Dean disappears down the hall with Castiel’s sweater in hand. Castiel can hear the dryer start, a quiet whir following Dean down the hall as he returns to lead the way back downstairs. 

“Oh, it’s okay. Samandriel is like that too.” He follows Dean down the stairs and into the kitchen. Kate is standing in the kitchen, looking up as they come around the corner. She’s got a very motherly look to her, blonde hair pulled back into a ponytail with a few wisps escaping in a halo around her face. 

“Sounds like you’re Castiel,” she says, turning towards them with a mug in each hand. “We’ve heard a lot about you.” This time he knows he sees Dean’s cheeks go red as he takes his mug, handing the other to Castiel. He doesn’t mind the surplus of marshmallows that Dean predicted, now with the warmth radiating from the mug and into his hands. 

“Sam likes to talk about debate,” Dean explains quickly, walking over to the table, plucking a fresh marshmallow from the bag sitting there and ignoring the cry of protest from Adam. Castiel follows, taking the seat next to Dean. Adam’s already got a chocolate mustache, but he doesn’t seem to notice or care as he takes another gulp of the drink. 

“You’re Mandy’s brother, right?” Adam questions once he’s swallowed, licking at his lips and entirely missing all the residue still clinging to the top one. 

“I am,” Castiel confirms, taking a careful sip of the hot chocolate. It’s still warm, enough that he can feel it running down his throat. The painful part of warming up seems to be over and he’s feeling pretty cozy now, Dean’s hoodie hanging down over his hands and a warm drink in front of him. 

“He’s nice, he shares his books with me. He told me that he is really good at Mario Kart and that sometimes he even beats you?” It’s as much of a statement as it is a question, almost like Adam is trying to size him up. 

“He is very good, and he does beat me sometimes.” 

“See! I knew it! Dean told me it’s against the rules for the little brother to win.” Dean does not look inclined to deny this, a smile playing at the corner of his lips when Castiel glances over at him. 

“Maybe they just don’t follow the rules,” he comments, giving a shrug of his shoulders as he takes a sip of cocoa, glancing up at Castiel and winking. The teasing older brother thing wasn’t ever something Castiel found himself particularly interested in doing, he’d gotten enough of it from Gabriel and Michael and Luke over the years, but it seems to be something that fits Dean well. 

“Well, what does Sam say?” 

“Sam says don’t listen to Dean.” Castiel snorts into his cocoa, coughing as some of it tries to make it out of his nose. Dean huffs next to him, reaching over to thump him on the back with just slightly more force than necessary. 

“Sounds like Sam has good advice,” Castiel manages once he’s cleared his throat, looking at Dean and winking right back at him over his mug. Dean snorts, patting Castiel’s back again, his arm staying on the back of the chair this time. 

“See, I knew we needed to have Castiel over some time.” Sam appears around the corner, duffel bag over his shoulder. Castiel hadn’t heard the door open but he’s obviously just come in, flakes of snow melting in his hair, and John is just behind him. “We need another voice of reason around here.” Dean huffs, muttering something unintelligible into his mug. 

“Sam! I saved marshmallows for you but Dean tried to eat them but I still have some!” Adam grabs the bag from the table and holds it up triumphantly. “Will you come drink hot chocolate with us?” The friendly smile on Sam’s face falters as he shifts the bag on his shoulder again. 

“Uh, maybe later, okay? I need a shower first.” Adam nods, pulling the bag of marshmallows into his lap and giving Dean a look clearly meant to ward him off. Sam waves and hurries up the stairs, a door shutting behind him a moment later. 

“Who is this?” John comes into the kitchen, leaning against the counter and surveying the table, gaze landing on Castiel. Dean had offered for him to come over for a minute, and Kate didn’t seem to mind in the least, but he suddenly feels like he’s intruding. 

“Castiel. Novak. Dean used to be friends with my brother.” Castiel points at his hand, hoping that’s enough to jog the memory. It’d seemed like the most traumatic event of the year to him, but he can understand now that in the Winchester family it might’ve been more of a blip with everything else. 

“Ah, right. Gary?” 

“Gabriel,” Dean corrects. Castiel’s relieved he’s not the one who has to say it, busying himself with another sip from his mug. 

“Mm. Well, next time let me know you’re bringing company home, son.” He glances between Dean and Castiel again, dragging over the hoodie, eyes lingering where Dean’s arm is draped over the back of Castiel’s chair. Even though he knows there’s nothing going on, he can’t help but feel a little guilty, and Dean must feel it too, quickly adjusting and moving both hands to his cup instead. John turns to the fridge, grabbing a can and heading to the living room where Castiel can hear it crack open a minute later. Silence settles over the kitchen, not entirely comfortable. 

“I guess I should be going,” Castiel finally says. The hot chocolate is mostly a congealed pile of marshmallow by now anyway, and as comfy as this hoodie is he can’t wait to get home and change into some sweatpants as well. His jeans are mostly dry but getting cozy under his blankets still sounds ridiculously inviting. 

“Yeah, I guess we should.” Dean tilts back his mug, shaking it a little to encourage the amalgamation of sugar at the bottom of the cup to plop into his mouth. “A’ight, ‘eady?” he questions. 

“Manners, Dean,” Kate says from the counter, not looking back at them. Dean makes a face but he does swallow and wipe off his mouth with a napkin before he stands up. “It was nice to meet you, Castiel. You’re welcome to come back any time.” Despite John’s less-than-warm welcome, Castiel thinks he might end up back here at some point. 

“Thank you, and thank you for the cocoa, it was delicious. It was nice to meet you too, Adam. Maybe you can come over and play Mario Kart with Mandy some time.” Adam lights up at that, already twisting in his seat to look pleadingly at his mother. Negotiations can be heard as Castiel follows Dean out of the kitchen and back to their shoes. Castiel’s are still damp and frigid as he wiggles his toes in, but it’s not as bad as it was earlier and he knows he’s not far from home. 

The snow has started to taper off now, a few lazy flakes still making their way through the air. The sun that had tried so hard to break through the clouds all day is gone now, surrendering to the quiet of the night. The doors of Dean’s car squeal as they open them, but it starts right up again. “You guys must have done an amazing job to keep this running so well,” Castiel comments, tucking his hands into the hoodie pockets. The first blast of air from the vents is cold but it only takes a few moments for it to warm up again. 

“Bobby really knows what he’s doing,” Dean agrees, grinning as he pulls out onto the street. A comfortable silence settles between them, not many cars out tonight. It’s utterly serene, and even with the little blip with Dean’s dad, Castiel is feeling happy through and through. He is almost disappointed when they pull up at his house, wanting to cling to the way he’s feeling. 

“Thanks for the ride. And the hoodie. Oh, I just realized I left my sweater at your house!” He’d forgotten all about it, too content with meeting Dean’s family and getting a hot drink. 

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll give it back to you when you give my hoodie back, deal?” 

“Deal.” Castiel smiles, looking over at Dean again. He’s reluctant to get out of the car, into the cold and away from whatever little magic bubble had formed around his day. He can’t sit here all night though, especially since he’s going to have to get up early to drag Gabriel out of bed to give him a ride to school the next day. 

“I’ll probably text you later about Adam coming over sometime, if you think it’s really cool with your family.” 

“Oh, absolutely. Samandriel doesn’t have friends over very often, I bet he’d love it.” Dean nods, glancing over at Castiel. 

“Sounds good. See you tomorrow, Cas.” 

“See you tomorrow.” Castiel finally pulls the door open and climbs out, smiling and giving Dean a little wave before he closes it and hurries towards the door. He’s not sure if Dean waits for him to get inside safely or if he just had something to do, but he doesn’t see him pull away until he’s inside and peeks out of the curtains. If everything today meant that he’s really stuck writing the presentation himself, he thinks he can live with it. It is actually a pretty damned good trade. 


	8. Chapter 8

Dean should start counting, he thinks this is the sixth time Castiel’s let out one of those long-suffering, heavy sighs. He’s been staring down at the same page in his book the entire time, too. He’s usually either flipping pages faster than anyone else or blatantly not reading, staring out the window or something. It’s not unusual for Dean to spend his time doing anything to get out of reading, even a book he’s enjoying. One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest is sitting unattended on his desk currently, but he’d actually finished it within the first week it was assigned. He got caught up in the story and stayed up late one night reading, but he’d deny it until his very last breath if anyone asked. It’s weird to see Cas so uninvolved, though. 

Castiel sighs again, running his fingers through his dark hair. It leaves one piece nearly sticking straight up in the air. Dean is used to seeing Cas’ hairstyle become more and more chaotic throughout the day, but today he’s starting off strong. 

Dean is aware that Castiel is smart, he has been since the day they reintroduced themselves, but working together on the last project really brought it to light. Well, working together was a stretch. More accurately, while Dean watched Castiel do all the work for the project, he was impressed. Impressed enough that he even offered to pay for another lunch out, plus Castiel was good company. He might even be one of the best friends Dean has made out here. The hockey guys are great, there’s no doubt about that, but they get enough of each other in practice. Anyway, it makes sense why Cas can daydream through half of their classes and come out okay. Dean’s just not used to seeing him look so… disturbed? He’s not sure that’s the right word for it, but it’s more than just thoughtful. There’s distress there, pinched between his eyebrows, and Dean notices now that there are dark circles under his eyes as well. 

The ring of the bell surprises Dean. Castiel closes his book, finally taking his eyes off the page he’s been studying for the better part of an hour. He glances back as he gathers his belongings, giving Dean a thin smile when he notices him looking. Dean moves to follow him out of the classroom, but he’s stopped by a bundle of red hair and a big smile. 

“Walk with me, Dean,” Charlie says, linking her arm through Dean’s and tugging him along. He spots Castiel disappearing down the hall and makes a mental note to check in with him later. He listened to Dean when he had problems, and even if Dean isn’t very good at it he’s willing to offer an ear. “You’ll never believe what Dorothy did this weekend.” 

Dean turns his attention back to Charlie, pulling a face. “If it’s another one of her flying things, I don’t want to know.” 

“Skydiving! She wants to take me next time, isn’t that the coolest thing?” Dean groans, trying to tug his arm away but Charlie holds quick, not going to let her enthusiasm go to waste. “We’re going in two weeks. Right before the debate trip, a perfect date!” 

“If you’ve both got a death wish, sure,” Dean mutters, shaking his head. He doesn’t understand how anyone could possibly think flying was fun in the first place, let alone flinging themselves out of a moving plane. It makes his stomach hurt a little just to think of it. 

“I’ll send you pictures, promise.” Dean knows he’d be wasting his breath trying to say that he would prefer not to see them, so he just nods along. “You don’t have a lot of room to talk, anyway. Has Lisa talked to you yet?” Considering they were only a few weeks into dating, Dean didn’t feel the need to make any sort of official call that they broke up, and Lisa had taken to giving the silent treatment. It’s fine with him, he doesn’t really want to talk about it anyway. He’d filled Charlie in on most of what had happened, that was all the talking he really felt like doing. 

“No, but I haven’t really tried either.” He shrugs, heading into their classroom. He’d be failing biology if Charlie wasn’t in this class, he has no doubts about that. She’s been helping him out, practically tutoring him, and Dean appreciates the hell out of it. 

“Fair. I don’t think you need to,” Charlie replies, letting go of Dean’s arm and dropping into her seat. “Oh! I heard the hockey team might be joining the debate kids for the trip.” 

“Yeah, it depends on our game tomorrow.” The team has been killing it, and Dean doesn’t want to take too much credit but he thinks he keeps things running pretty smoothly. Cole still hasn’t gotten over whatever stick he had up his ass, but he’d usually let it go during games and trust Dean with the puck when he needed to. 

“That could be so fun! Ooh, I think I can come tomorrow too. I’ll drag Cas with me.” Her notebook is full of neat, precise notes when she flips it open. Dean doesn’t have a clue how she does it, but it’s like having someone printing a textbook right next to him, and he can use all the help he can get. 

“Hey, speaking of Cas, did he seem kind of weird to you this morning?” Charlie’s eyes narrow slightly. Dean’s not sure if the pause that follows is actually longer than normal, but it sure feels like it. 

“Weird how?” she questions, leaning her elbow on the table and twisting to face Dean. 

“He just… I dunno, like he wasn’t really there.” He can’t read the expression on Charlie’s face, but he knows that he’s being studied and it makes him feel like squirming, warmth flushing his cheeks. He stuffs his hands into the pockets of his hoodie, shifting in his seat. 

“He did look tired. Maybe he’s just got a lot on his mind, Balthazar texted this morning to tell us all he got his audition for Julliard. I know where I want to go to school and thinking about applying still stresses me out, I wouldn’t be surprised if it was bothering him too.” It makes sense, it feels like every day is inundated with more and more application talk. Deadlines, what they can cram onto their resume last minute, essay writing and interview practice. 

“I guess that’d make dating hard. Julliard is far away,” Dean says, opening his own notebook. Charlie snorts next to him, shaking her head. 

“Dating? You into Balthazar?” Charlie questions. It’s mostly teasing, there’s a smirk playing on her lips, but there’s still a glint in her eyes that Dean doesn’t understand. 

“Not my type. But I thought Cas was going to- Is he going to New York too?” Genuine confusion flashes across Charlie’s face before she’s lighting up with a laugh. 

“Cas and Balthazar? They dated for three days and it was painful for everyone around them, and it was long before your time.” 

“Oh.” Dean just sort of assumed. They spent a lot of time together, and he’d never really forgotten how Balthazar had hung off Castiel at the haunted house, and they are both gay. He sighs and runs a hand over his face, sinking back in his chair. “I sound like a total asshole, don’t I?” 

“A little.” One of the things he appreciates about Charlie is her honesty. “You’re not the only one though. I’m sure that a lot of people have made that assumption.” It doesn’t make Dean feel any better about it, he’s Castiel’s friend. He should have known better. Charlie gauges his expression, her own softening. “If it will make you feel better, I’ll let you do your worksheet all on your own today.” 

“Ass,” Dean mutters, but it does make the corners of his mouth twitch upwards. When the worksheet shows up, he even manages to do the first three problems on his own. 

***

If Dean thought Castiel looked tired that morning, it’s nothing compared to how wrecked he looks as he comes into the cafeteria. Dean watches with concern as the other shuffles across the room and drops into an isolated seat in the corner, immediately cradling his head in his hands. Balthazar is in the middle of a very animated story about the moose he swears he saw while Charlie argues with him. 

“I did, it was right in the middle of the road. I had to swerve, I thought I was going into the ditch. I would say my life flashed before my eyes, but I’ve had far too rich an experience to have it condensed like that.” Neither of them have noticed Castiel’s entrance, both too invested in their conversation. Dean is only half-listening, worrying his lip. 

“Balthazar. There have been a grand total of, like, three moose sightings in Kansas ever. It was probably just a deer.” Castiel looks like he wants to be left alone, but Dean remembers how much he thought he wanted to sit alone and mope a few weeks ago and how much talking to Castiel had lightened the load. He’s never really made up for that, buying Cas a sandwich didn’t seem like enough. 

“I know the difference between moose and deer. Deer don’t have antlers.” Charlie lets out an exasperated sigh, preparing to launch into what Dean is sure is going to be a bit of a lecture when he interrupts them by pushing himself out of his chair. 

“I’ll be right back.” He has no doubt they’d come along if Dean asked, but he kind of wants to check in first, see if Castiel really does want to be left alone. It’d be easier to tell one of them to fuck off. Charlie waits only a few seconds before she starts up again. Dean’s main worry is Castiel, but he is a little relieved to be walking away from the table when he hears her start with ‘for your information.’ 

Dean raps his knuckles lightly on the table as he approaches, and Castiel jumps as he looks up, eyes rimmed with red. “Oh. Hey,” he says, voice a little raspier than usual. 

“No offense dude, but you look like shit.” Castiel snorts out a quiet laugh, rubbing his hands over his eyes again. 

“I just had a rough night. Didn’t want to bother everyone else with it.” It makes Dean smile a little, shaking his head. 

“What was it that you said to me? That’s what friends are for, right?” He pulls back the chair across from Castiel and sits. “Lay it on me.” Castiel shifts a little before letting out another one of those sighs he’d been huffing all through class earlier, looking down at his hands. 

“I think I told you my brother, Luke, he’s in rehab. Well, he was.” Another sigh, and another pass of his hands over his eyes. “He showed up at the house last night. Said he got out and wanted to come back closer to home, but he needed somewhere to stay for a while. He hasn’t lived here in ages, and he didn’t have any money. You can’t work while you’re in rehab, you know? But my mom wouldn’t even let him in the door, she just stood there yelling about how he can’t come back here with all his drugs and bad habits and infect the rest of us. Said something about how he was already ruining Gabriel and Anna. And they’re yelling, so of course they hear it. 

“Gabriel’s been talking about leaving already. He’s old enough, and he just got into culinary school. He’s going to have to find his own place out there when it starts. Last night, though, he just… blew up. Apparently he knew Luke was coming, and he’d been so sure that having him at the doorstep our parents wouldn’t be able to turn him away. He was mad but I think it hurt him more than anything else, especially hearing our mom say what she did. Dad doesn’t usually get involved but when Gabriel said he was going to leave he tried to lock him in the house, which just made it worse. They spent two hours screaming at each other through the door until Gabriel threatened to jump out the window. He took a couple bags and his car and took off, said that he’s not coming back.” Castiel’s eyes are a shade brighter, unshed tears glimmering in his eyes before he takes a shaky breath, blinking hard a few times.

“Anna tried to take off too, but she’s only 14. She made it a few blocks away before Michael found her and picked her up. She hasn’t come out of her room at all since then. She refused to come to school today, and she called my mom a bitch so now my dad’s on her back too. And Samandriel, he thinks we’re never going to see Gabriel again, he cried himself to sleep. I don’t think I slept at all, my parents spent the rest of the night arguing with each other.” No wonder Castiel looked as bad as he did, Dean can’t say he would look any better. “I’m sorry, that was a lot, I-” 

“Don’t apologize. Fuck, Cas, I don’t know how you’re still standing today.” Dean shakes his head, not even sure where to start. He hates seeing his friend hurting, but there’s a whole lot going on that Dean couldn’t do a thing about no matter how much he wants to. 

“I’m not,” Castiel points out, sinking back in his chair. “It’s better than staying home. I’m sure my mom and Anna are going at it again. I just hope they’re done by the time I get back.” 

“Do you need somewhere to crash for a few days?” Dean’s not sure his dad and Kate would go for that, anyway, but he could figure that out later. 

“No, no. My parents would lose their minds, and I can’t leave Samandriel to deal with all that on his own.” That’s something Dean can understand immediately. He can’t imagine leaving his brothers behind for anything. He’s only known Adam for a few months and he still can’t fathom it. 

“I get it. Hey, sorry for telling you that you look like shit.” Castiel gives him a weary smile, shaking his head. 

“I’m sure it’s true. I  _ feel _ like shit.” He lets out another long sigh, closing his eyes for a minute. 

“Have you heard from Gabe?” 

“Yeah. He texted me this morning, told me that he and Luke have a motel room for now. He’s going to go to school in Topeka, so they’re going to go out there and see if they can find a place.” Castiel’s eyebrows pinch together and he shakes his head. “I… this is really awful of me, but... “ He trails off, expression unsure. 

“I bet it’s not as awful as you think.” Dean doesn’t think Castiel has a mean bone in his body, he’d be very surprised if he had anything remotely bad to say. 

“I’m glad Luke is out, and he’s doing better for now, but he’s done this before. Gabriel’s always looked up to him, and I’m… What if Luke does start using again? And it’s just him and Gabriel and he gets pulled into something?” Castiel’s eyes are watering again, brightening the red around the rims. “I don’t want to sound like our mom, but if Gabe… He goes to the extreme with everything, if he-” Castiel sniffles, a tear spilling over and down his cheek. Grabbing his chair, Dean scoots around the table, wrapping his arm around Castiel’s shoulder. The other buries his face in his hands again, letting out another sniffle. 

“He’s got you looking out for him, I think that counts for a lot.” Castiel’s shoulders jump under his arm, his hair tickling Dean’s face as he shakes his head. “Topeka isn’t that far, you could still take weekend trips out there. Hell, maybe Sam and I could tag along sometimes, it’d do us good to get out of this town every once in a while.” Slowly, Castiel lifts his head, swiping furiously at the tears wetting his cheeks. 

“I’m sor-” 

“Don’t you dare,” Dean interrupts, pulling the sleeve of his hoodie over his hand and reaching out to wipe away a tear running towards Castiel’s jaw that he’d missed. “I’d be worried too. It’s not awful of you at all. It’s pretty fucking sweet of you, actually.” A weak laugh huffs from Castiel’s lips. 

“Did you really just call me sweet?” It’s not something Dean would normally do, but he doesn’t think Castiel normally has this shitty of a day, so he could use an extra compliment. 

“Don’t make me take it back.” Castiel laughs again, giving another swipe across his eyes. 

“Alright, alright. Hey, thanks for listening.” Castiel looks over at him expression so open and earnest it makes Dean’s chest ache. 

“I owed you one. Now we’re even, no more sharing for either of us.” Dean gives Castiel a small grin, happy to see the other’s lips turn up a little in answer before he pulls his phone out and glances at the screen. 

“Well, thank you anyway. If you don’t mind, I’m going to try to sleep through the rest of lunch.” Again, something Dean can very much understand. He nods and pushes himself up, reaching out to squeeze Castiel’s shoulder gently. 

“Here, you can borrow my hoodie. Give yourself a little cave.” Not waiting for an answer, Dean unzips it and hands it ove. Castiel looks like he’s going to argue for a moment before he nods and reaches out to take it, slipping it on and pulling the hood up. Blue eyes peek out from under the edge, and Dean can’t resist reaching out and giving the strings around the hood a little tug, scrunching it up a little around Castiel’s face. He lingers there just a moment longer before he lets go and gives a little wave, heading back towards Balthazar and Charlie. 

“-that’s why, ecologically, the multi road system just doesn’t make any sense.” Charlie folds her hands in front of her, satisfied, but Balthazar looks as lost as Dean feels trying to jump into the conversation. 

“Are you guys still talking about moose?” He questions as he settles back into his seat, glancing across the room towards Castiel. He’s got his head down now, a lump of grey hunched over the table. 

“I stopped paying attention about an hour and a half ago,” Balthazar answers, flinching away from a grape Charlie flicks at his face. Dean laughs, reaching for one of the now cold chicken nuggets on his plate. They weren’t necessarily good warm, either, but there’s a distinctive drop in quality with a few degrees difference. “How’s our little Cassie?” 

“He’s tired. Taking a nap.” Dean’s not going to divulge any more details than tha. He doesn’t know how much the other two know and it’s not the sort of stuff he imagines Cas wants told to just anyone. 

“He’s always got the best ideas,” Balthazar replies, throwing a glance over his shoulder in the direction of Castiel’s table. Dean remembers, somewhat guiltily, his conversation with Charlie earlier. It shouldn’t make a difference, but it’s almost like some kind of grudge Dean had been holding against Balthazar had lifted. 

“He does,” Dean agrees, elbow on the table, propping his chin on his hand. Charlie is giving both of them a look, the same one she’d been wearing in class that made him feel like he was being examined. “What?” 

“Nothing.” Charlie draws the word out long, making it definitely sound like the opposite of nothing. 

“Charlie, dear, can you still hack into someone’s facebook account? There’s this boy who I’d like to see a few things about.” There’s a lot of places where Charlie excels, but technology is easily the most prominent. 

“Are you just going to message all his exes like you did with the last one?” Charlie flicks another grape towards Balthazar’s face, hitting him in the cheek this time. 

“With the last one? How come I’ve never heard this story?” Dean questions. 

“Oh, settle in, Dean, it’s a good story.” Charlie grins and turns in her chair to face Dean a little more while Balthazar protests from across the table. With a little laugh, Dean pops another cold chicken nugget into his mouth. “So, Thaz dated this guy Cam, right?” 

“Okay, well you  _ offered _ to hack into his account in the first place!” Charlie rolls her eyes and waves a hand dismissively before she jumps back in. Dean is happy to listen to their gentle bickering for the rest of the hour. He’s also happy thinking Castiel might be getting some sleep, because he doesn’t see him move until the bell rings. 

***

“Come to the door, your pizza is getting cold.” Actually, it’s burning Dean’s hand through the box, but that doesn’t make as fun an argument. 

“I’m- My pizza?” Dean grins, glancing up at the house. He has no idea which window is Castiel’s, or he’d position himself under it. 

“Y’know, the big circle with the cheese and tomato sauce?” Dean can hear Castiel shifting around, a squeak he thinks might be a bed and soft clatter. 

“I’m familiar, Dean. Is that your car?” 

“Pizza needed a ride. I even got pineapples on it. The worst favorite in the world for someone to have but I’ll give you a pass today.” There’s another clatter before the phone goes silent. Dean looks at the screen in surprise. He doesn’t think he’s ever had someone hang up on him before. Only a moment later the front door cracks open and Castiel’s looking out at him. He still looks tired, but at least he looks more comfortable, joggers hanging off his hips and Dean’s hoodie still zipped around him.

“I didn’t order a pizza.” He glances at the boxes in Dean’s hand, then out to his car again. “Don’t you have to put one of those little lights on the top of your car?” 

“I ordered the pizza, Cas. And then I picked it up and brought it here because you were having a really shitty day and pizza always helps. I got cinnamon rolls too.” He holds the boxes out towards Castiel. “I can just drop it off and leave, too. I figure you might not be cool with having guests over right now, but if not I’m down for a movie night.” Castiel keeps staring down at the pizza boxes, blinking a few times. 

“It has to be a PG movie.” He lifts his gaze to meet Dean’s, confusion still pinching his features together slightly. “Samandriel needs company.” Dean had been hoping to get to hang out, he was worried about Castiel all day, but he didn’t expect it. A wide grin breaks across his face. 

“Can do. Now let me in, before your pizza really does get cold.” Castiel shuffles aside and Dean steps in, toeing his boots off by the door. Castiel tugs on the sleeves of the hoodie, an almost guilty expression creeping over his face. 

“My room’s upstairs.” Cas disappears into the kitchen, returning with a roll of paper towels in hand. He leads the way up the stairs , throwing a glance over his shoulder. “I don’t know where my mom is, but we’ll try to avoid her.” They pass a door with an actual keep out sign hanging up, Dean’s never seen one outside of movies where they were trying to paint the most stereotypical angsty teen. “Anna’s room,” Castiel says when he notices Dean looking, pushing open the next door they come to. 

The first thing Dean notices is that Castiel’s room is  _ cozy _ . Not cozy in the ‘I’m trying to be polite and not point out you live in a shoebox’ way, but the fluffy blanket on his bed, the warm lights hanging on the wall, a collection of drawings pinned over his desk. Samandriel peeks up at them from the bed, a blanket pulled up over his head and wrapped around him like a cloak. Castiel’s laptop is perched on the edge of the bed, some cartoon Dean doesn’t recognize on the screen. “Mandy, this is my friend, Dean. He brought pizza.” Dean grins and gives a little wave. Samandriel just nods, pulling his blanket more tightly around himself. Castiel looks to Dean with a little shrug, heading towards the bed and settling next to his brother. 

Dean follows suit, getting settled and balancing the boxes on his knee. At first glance he thinks the sheets are simple polka-dots, but getting a little closer he notices they’re fat little bees with tiny wings. “You’ve got a thing with bees, don’t you?” he questions, leaning over to squint at the sheets a little more closely. Some of them have a loopy dotted line trailing behind them, giving them the illusion of flight.

“I like them,” Castiel replies, his cheeks red when Dean looks back at him. “They’re very important to the ecosystem.” His eyes flicker to the corner of the bed and back to Dean quickly, cheeks going a shade darker. Arching an eyebrow, Dean turns to find what Castiel was looking at, beaming when he spots a giant plush bee propped up in the corner, sitting on top of the Falcons hoodie that Dean had lent Castiel after their snowball fight. 

“Very important,” Dean replies in a very serious voice, reaching out to poke Castiel in the side. The other swats at his hand, shaking his head, looking over to Samandriel. 

“Are you hungry?” It’s an obvious ploy to turn the attention away from his bee collection. Dean lets it slide, making a note in the back of his mind to definitely bring this up later. 

“Do you like pineapple on your pizza too?” Dean asks. He didn’t think about needing to share with anyone else, but luckily Samandriel nods, peering around Castiel at the box. Dean doesn’t need the look Castiel gives him to keep his opinion to himself this time. He might be an ass sometimes, but he’s not so bad that he’d antagonize a kid having a hard time. Castiel starts to pass out paper towels while Dean shifts the boxes, opening the one with the pizza so he can dole out slices. “What are you guys watching?” Dean questions once they’ve all got a slice and sat back. 

“Legend of Korra. We finished Avatar last week,” Castiel replies. Samandriel nods his head, greatly exaggerated by the mountain of blanket on top of him. “This episode is almost done, then we can find a movie. Does that sound okay, Mandy?” The blankets bob as he nods again, hands sticking out just enough to hold his pizza.

“Korra is cool too,” Dean replies, starting to pick the pieces of pineapple off his slice, dropping them in the box. Sam had gotten into those shows a few years ago, and he always got pulled back in whenever Adam was sitting on the couch watching it. “Adam said he’s a… what’s it called, fire breaker?” 

“Firebender.” Samandriel’s voice is quiet but certain. 

“Firebender, thank you.” Dean leans forward a little so he can look at Samandriel. “Which one are you?” A shy smile creeps across Samandriel’s face, eyes flitting to the computer screen for a second. 

“Earthbender.” He hesitates for a moment, looking between the pizza and Dean. Apparently it’s enough to convince him to continue. “Adam and me are making our own comic like my Avatar books.” 

“That’s really cool! Is one of you the artist and one the writer or do you guys take turns?” He’d seen Adam’s drawings and they require quite a bit of interpretation, but Dean’s not sure if that’s because he’s not super talented or if it’s just what all eight year olds' drawings look like. 

“Adam writes.” The finality with which Samandriel says it makes Dean suspect it might be Adam’s lack of talent specifically. “I’m a good draw-er.” 

“Good at drawing,” Castiel corrects quietly. Samandriel shrugs and points towards Castiel’s desk, the pictures pinned above it. 

“That’s my robot.” 

“Really? Wow, you are a good draw-er.” Castiel shakes his head but Dean just grins, nudging him with his shoulder. “I bet your comics look really good. You got any of them around here?” 

“You wanna see?” Samandriel straightens up a little, some of the blanket slipping back off his head. 

“I would love to.” Samandriel beams, stuffing the rest of his pizza in his mouth unceremoniously and starting to fight his way out from the blankets. 

“Be ‘ight back!” he exclaims around a mouthful of dough and cheese. Dean can hear his feet pattering down the hall and a door being swung open. 

“Thanks.” Castiel nudges Dean this time, giving him a small smile. “He’s barely spoken to me all day, he needed a distraction.” 

“It’s nothing, I’m actually curious about this comic,” Dean replies with a little shrug, taking another bite of the pizza. He missed a pineapple and it is immediately apparent, tangy and sweet and a not at all welcome surprise. He pulls a face, shaking his head. “Ugh, I don’t know how you eat this.” Castiel rolls his eyes, but his little smile is growing. 

“Next time bring your own pizza.” It’s a joke, of course, but Dean likes the idea of there being a next time. He likes spending time with Castiel, and even though he likes to give him a hard time for his movie choices they’re actually pretty good. He wouldn’t mind getting to poke fun in person some time. 

“This time I’ll just keep all the cinnamon rolls to myself,” Dean replies, grinning at the indignation that crosses Castiel’s face. 

“You brought them here for me!” 

“But I am the one who brought them.” He picks up the box and cracks it open, inhaling deeply. “They smell so good too, I’m going to have to eat the whole box all by myself.” 

“Remember what I said the other day? You’re a dork.” Castiel shoves Dean’s shoulder gently. This is the closest Dean’s seen his smile get to reaching his eyes today, the little spark that’s usually there instead of all stormy darkness.

“You’re just asking to get thrown in the next snow pile we see, aren’t you?” Dean sets the cinnamon rolls aside before looking back to Castiel, eyebrow quirked. 

“If that’s the price for my honesty, then I suppose I am. Maybe I’ll throw you into the snow pile this time.” 

“Oh, you think you could pick me up? Sorry to tell you Cas, but my hockey muscles definitely beat your debate arms,” he teases, reaching out to give Castiel’s bicep a squeeze. There’s more definition there than Dean was expecting, but he still doesn’t think it’s enough that Cas could pick him up. 

“I might surprise you,” Castiel replies, chin jutting out stubbornly. Dean just laughs and shakes his head. “What? I might! You aren’t that much bigger than me,” Castiel insists, twisting towards Dean, reaching out like he’s going to grab Dean’s arms but giving his shoulders a sharp push instead. It’s just enough to knock him back against the bed, Castiel leaning over him, hands on either side of his head. “Not to mention, half the battle is strategy.” Laughing, Dean reaches up, hands on Castiel’s chest but not pushing him back just yet. He still looks absolutely exhausted, and there’s pizza sauce on the corner of his lip, but Dean can’t stop himself from thinking that Castiel looks  _ beautiful. _

“I found one!” Castiel jumps like they’d been caught robbing a bank, face flooding with color as he scrambles back to his spot, nearly knocking the laptop off the bed in his haste. Dean stays where he is for a second, blinking up at the ceiling. He’s a little too aware of his heart beating, just a bit faster than normal. He’s not sure where these thoughts keep popping up from, but it’s starting to become a pattern that he’s not sure he’s ready to recognize. The bed dips as Samandriel climbs back on it, holding up a collection of papers stapled crookedly along the spine. Dean pushes himself back up, running a hand through his hair, certain there’s color staining his cheeks as well. 

“Alright, show me. Are you and Adam in this one?” he questions. Fuck, maybe he could use a distraction too. Samandriel nods eagerly and squeezes himself between Castiel and Dean, laying the book out across his legs. 

“This is us, we’re on a flying bison like Appa.” The drawings really are pretty good, especially knowing that a kid made them. Dean’s not sure he could do any better himself. Samandriel flips the page, pointing at another panel. “And here we have to get ready to fight the bad guys who are trying to steal everyone’s powers.” Samandriel’s got a description for each picture. By the time he’s done, Dean feels like his heart rate is back where it’s supposed to be, and Castiel gives him a small smile over Samandriel’s head when their eyes meet. 

Samandriel gets his blanket back but stays nestled between Dean and Castiel as they start another episode. They break into the cinnamon rolls, but Samandriel falls asleep against Castiel’s side before he can finish his, the treat left abandoned on his leg. Dean moves it eventually, and it’s good that he does, because Samandriel shifts onto his side only a couple minutes later. It’s not long before Dean catches Castiel’s eyelids drooping as well. He can’t blame him, it is getting late and he’d hardly slept at all the night before. Dean waits out the rest of the episode they’re on before he slides off the bed, brushing off his jeans. 

Castiel starts, blinking furiously as he focuses on Dean. “Sorry,” he mutters, voice gravely with sleep. 

“Don’t be. You need some sleep, Cas.” Closing the laptop, Dean moves it to Castiel’s desk. He hears quiet rustling as Castiel gets up behind him, tossing their paper towels in the pizza boxes and stacking them up. Dean turns back towards him, smiling softly. 

“Thank you, again. You didn’t have to do any of this.” 

“I know I didn’t have to.” Dean shrugs, wandering closer to Castiel. “I wanted to.” 

“Oh.” Castiel blinks up at him, just staring for a long moment before he suddenly wraps his arms around Dean’s waist, face pressed to his shoulder. It’s nice to slide his arms back around Castiel, the other warm and solid against him. They hold each other for a beat longer than necessary, but Dean really doesn’t want to let go. Finally, he gives Castiel a gentle pat on the back before he pulls away.

“You just… you let me know if you need anything else, okay?” Castiel nods, standing there looking a little lost with Dean’s hoodie hanging over his hands. Dean itches to reach out for him again, but he’s not sure what would happen if he did, and as warm as Dean feels right now that sets a pit of ice in his stomach. Dean stuffs his hands back in his pocket, turning to slip out the door before he does something stupid. The house is quiet as Dean heads down the stairs, finding his boots and yanking them on. He throws one more glance back at the stairs before shaking his head and hurrying out towards his car. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd like to very tentatively plan on updating every week on Sunday from now on! I hope y'all are enjoying this stupid, indulgent mess of a story.


	9. Chapter 9

“Three...two...one...go!!” There’s a frenzy as people dive from seat to seat, the ones in on it giggling and pushing each other out of the way while everyone else is at their mercy. It’s been a long four hours on this bus. Dean comes careening across the aisle, falling over Sam’s legs and half into Castiel’s lap. 

“Sam! You were supposed to switch seats. It’s stoplight shuffle.” Pouting is something Dean does more often than Castiel would have thought, and he’s doing it now, staring at his brother with his bottom lip pushed out. 

“I already told you I’m not playing, go back to your own seat.” Sam shoves at Dean’s shoulder. Dean huffs, pushing himself up clumsily as he struggles to find footing. Eventually he gets a hold on the back of the seats and tugs himself up. 

“Winchester!” The hockey coach is twisted in her seat, a stern look on her face. “Sit down, and stay down. If I see you or anyone else trying to jump between seats again you can expect to spend the whole game on the bench.” She scans the seats, making direct eye contact with each person to make sure her point is well accepted. The few people still vying for a seat sort it out quickly. Even though being benched wasn’t exactly something she could do to the debate kids, none of them liked to imagine what she would come up with instead. 

“I can’t believe you choose to hang out with him,” Sam grumbles, glancing over at Dean again and shaking his head. 

“He’s not that bad.” Castiel glances over, watching as Dean moves very quickly to harassing Benny, who’s just trying to read a book next to him. “Most of the time.” 

“You only say that because you don’t have to live with him.” Sam settles back, trying to stretch his legs out in front of him as far as he can. The bus seats aren’t exactly accommodating for his lanky limbs. 

“I always told people that about Gabriel, but they never seemed to believe me.” Thinking about his brother makes Castiel’s chest go a little tighter. He hadn’t realized how much he was going to miss him when he moved away, and having no time to prepare for it made it that much worse. No point in dwelling on it right now, though. He glances across the aisle again, where Dean has grown bored of bothering Benny and is twisted in his seat trying to get the attention of Garth two rows behind him. He has too much energy to be stuck sitting still this long. Castiel noticed in class he has a hard time too. Dean’s always fiddling with a pen or folding up the corner of his paper, reaching over to write something on Castiel’s paper, picking apart an eraser and flicking the pieces towards the trash can. It’s no wonder a four and a half hour trip is testing his patience. 

“So you should know what I mean,” Sam insists, throwing a look over at his brother as well. “At least we’re almost there.” He stretches again, lifting his arms over his head with a small groan. He has to be sore, he’d slept through the lunch stop where everyone else got to get out and get their blood flowing for a minute. 

“Almost,” Castiel agrees, looking out the window again. Dean’s not the only one getting restless. There’s been more shuffling in general, complaining when someone accidentally elbows whoever they’re sitting next to. It’s why Dean was able to convince anyone else to jump seats with him, he’d been trying since the trip started. 

The hotel they’re going to be staying in comes into view as they round the next corner. A quiet buzz comes over the bus as everyone starts to get their stuff together. Castiel puts the book he’d held for most of the ride into his backpack. He didn’t make much progress, but he didn’t expect to. Carsickness has plagued him his whole life but he’d been hopeful that maybe he was growing out of it or something like that. In the time it took him to read a single page he found that not to be the case. 

The bus pulled in front of the doors, rolling to a stop. Coach Mills stood and started shouting instructions back, but most of it was lost in the shuffle as everyone started climbing from their seats, chattering excitedly. Dean’s already up, pulling bags out from the overhead. “I’ll grab your bags too. I’m so glad we’re here, I thought I was going to lose my mind. Can you believe that we have to do this again the day after tomorrow?” Castiel doesn’t object when Dean hands his over, and Sam receives his bag a moment later. 

“Maybe someone will knock you out during your game and you’ll sleep through the next trip,” Sam suggests, grinning as he pulls his backpack over his shoulders.

“Very funny.” Dean looks elated to be here, to be up out of his seat. “Brothers,” he says when he catches Castiel’s eye, shaking his head, but there’s a smile pulling at his lips, making his eyes crinkle just a little in the corner. Dean’s duffle bag is stuffed full and sticks at the lip of the compartment. He grunts, giving it a tug, stumbling when it finally pulls out. It swings down, smacking into the person standing behind Dean. 

“What the fuck?” It’s Cole, frowning as he turns around. 

“Sorry, man.” Dean shrugs the strap of the duffle over his shoulder, shifting back as Sam squeezes out in front of him. 

“Sure you are.” Cold scoffs, a smirk spreading as he narrows his eyes at Dean. “Just trying to get back at me since Lisa picked me, aren’t you?” 

“It was an accident,” Dean mutters, rolling his eyes. Castiel pauses, watching the exchange a beat longer. He had noticed that Dean and Lisa weren’t spending time together, but he wasn’t sure if they’d actually split. Scolding himself for the way his heart jumps in his chest knowing Dean’s single again, he pushes into the aisle, starting towards the front of the bus. He can still hear Cole and Dean bickering behind him. 

“You know, she told me you totally freaked out on her.” Cole is goading, not even trying to be very subtle about it, in Castiel’s opinion. “You got a problem with girls or something, Winchester?” 

“I could ask you the same question, I’m not the one grilling the person I’m dating about their ex.” Castiel glances over his shoulder, the brief look enough to see tension tight in Dean’s jaw, leaving not even a whisper of the easy smile he’d been wearing a few moments ago. 

“I’m not grilling her, she’s just trying to warn people that you acted like a spaz,” Cole spits. 

“Whatever, Cole. I don’t care about what you or Lisa are doing. Stay out of my business and I’ll stay out of yours.” Dean hikes his bag over his shoulder, nudging Castiel forward. He bites his lip, starting down the stairs off the bus. It’ll be good for all of them to get out of cramped quarters and get a little fresh air. 

“You think you’re better than everyone else, don’t you? Having a dead mom doesn’t make you special.” 

“Yeah, well at least I wasn’t born with my head stuffed all the way up my own ass.” Dean’s voice is sharp and cold. Most of the other students still on the bus have gone quiet. Castiel bites his lip, starting down the stairs off the bus. It’ll be good for all of them to get out of cramped quarters and get a little fresh air. 

Castiel hears a little shuffling behind him, but it’s still a surprise when something solid shoves against him. He’s midstep, and trying to catch the narrow bus steps isn’t working out very well for him. He thinks he may have a chance when his foot hits solid ground, but the sharp pain that shoots up his leg dashes that bit of optimism. Knee buckling and momentum still carrying him, he finds the ground rushing up to meet him, managing to put his hands out in front of him just in time to stop his face from breaking his fall.

“Shit, Cas!” There’s a rapid tapping as Dean rushes down the steps, dropping his bag next to him as he kneels next to Castiel. “Are you okay?” 

“Yeah, I’m fine.” He shifts, sitting and stretching his legs out in front of him, wincing as he rotates his ankle. The commotion has caught Coach Mills’ attention. Mr. Crowe, the debate coach, starts to herd everyone else towards the doors while Coach Mills heads towards them. 

“What’s going on over here?” she demands. Cole is standing just outside the bus, and Dean throws an angry look over his shoulder at him. 

“I fell,” Castiel says quickly. He can’t get in trouble for that, and he doesn’t think Dean and Cole getting reprimanded is going to do much but make both of them even more frustrated. “Missed a step, that’s all. I think I might have twisted my ankle,” he admits. She crouches in front of him, and with an experienced movement, she grasps the bottom of his foot and gives it a little wiggle. Her other hand is on his ankle, pressing in as she palpates around the muscles. He winces again, and she nods her head. 

“Looks like a sprain, but doesn’t feel like anything here is broken. Lucky for you, my first aid kit never goes far from my side.” She drops her bag next to her, unzipping it and pulling out a small box. “Happens all the time with the hockey boys, I’m almost an expert when it comes to sprains,” she explains, digging out a long bandage. “Trenton, get a move on, unless you’re planning on paying for the show,” she barks, making Castiel jump. She hadn’t even looked over her shoulder, but it makes Cole start towards the hotel doors. Everyone who follows cranes their neck to see what they’re doing. Castiel is grateful this is all it is, he can’t imagine how hectic it would be if it was any worse. 

Under Coach Mill’s instruction, he unties his shoe and pulls it off, sock joining. It’s a little awkward having her grab his bare foot, he doesn’t really know her. She doesn’t seem to have any qualms, starting to wrap, over his foot then up over his ankle and back down. “D’you think you can use this as a handicap in your debate tomorrow?” Dean questions. Coach Mill’s eyes flick up towards him. “Kidding, of course.” She looks back down and Dean emphatically shakes his head, giving Castiel a small smile. 

“I don’t think it would work, anyway. You don’t want to show your weakness.” The bandage is snug around Castiel’s ankle, not too tight but he can feel the support already.

“Take it easy.” Coach Mills sits back, packing her kit back into her bag. “We’ll make sure you have a room on the ground floor. Don’t want to risk it around any more stairs.” Castiel’s cheeks flush, but there’s genuine kindness in her smile as she stands. He’s starting to see why the team likes her so much. Pulling his sock and shoe back on, he brushes his hands off on his jeans. Bits of gravel are pressed into his palm, and there’s a group of scratches with blood fighting to the surface, but all things considered it’s not bad. 

“I’m so sorry,” Dean bursts the moment Coach Mills is out of ear shot. “Cole pushed me, I didn’t realize you were right there.” 

“It’s okay, it’s not your fault.” Maybe there were things Dean could have done that would have diffused the situation a little more, but Castiel thinks Cole was sort of out for a fight. “He… really doesn’t like you, does he?” 

“I told you, he’s got this problem with me. I don’t know what it is.” Dean glances towards the doors, letting out a soft sigh. He looks genuinely upset about it for a brief moment, but almost as soon as the emotion appears it falls away and he replaces it with a small smile. “Some people are just a pain in the ass, I don’t think they can help it.” 

“Talking about yourself now?” Castiel questions, grinning as he starts to push himself up. Even snug in the wrap, his ankle smarts as he puts pressure on it. Nothing unbearable, but certainly not comfortable. 

“There’s a lot of us.” Dean stands as well, watching Castiel, concern pinched between his eyebrows. “It still hurts.” It’s not a question, Castiel knows it was too easy to read on his face. 

“Just a little, I’ll be fine.” He hoists his bag over his shoulders again, adjusting it. He’s not sure what Dean’s doing when he turns in front of Castiel, crouching just a little. 

“Piggyback ride. Least I can do.” Dean glances over his shoulder, holding his hands back. 

“You don’t have to-” 

“I want to. Come on, Jody’s gonna be coming back if we don’t get a move on and she’s not so nice the second time around.” Castiel hesitates another moment. He hasn’t had a piggyback ride in ages. The last time he can remember he was only four or five. Luke had taken turns running him and Gabriel around the yard while the other one chased after. It was some weird version of tag they had named, but the name has slipped Castiel’s mind over the years. Dean wiggles his fingers impatiently and Castiel caves, stepping forward and carefully squaring his arms around Dean’s neck. 

“I’m probably too heavy, you really-” 

“Don’t have to, yeah, I heard you the first time.” Dean’s hands grab at his thighs, pulling them around his waist as he hikes Castiel up onto his back. Castiel’s fingers dig into the soft fabric of Dean’s shirt, holding himself up. The first time Dean picked him up Castiel hadn’t had a chance to think much about it, but this time all he can do is think about it. Castiel’s chest is warm where it presses against Dean’s back, hyper-aware of every move he makes. He wants to press his face to Dean’s shoulder, but even refraining from doing that he still gets a lungful of Dean’s warm, woody scent every time he breathes. It’s wearing off the hoodies Castiel has been admittedly hoarding. 

“Your bag.” Castiel hadn’t realized just how dry his throat had gone until he croaks out the words. 

“What?” Dean looks towards him, the turn of his head bringing their faces so close Castiel could press their cheeks together. Somehow he can see even more freckles this close. Not just the ones he can usually see on Dean’s nose, fading out onto his cheeks, but the ones that travel up the side of his face, across his forehead, disappearing into his hair. There’s one perfectly placed at the corner of his eye that Castiel can’t believe he hasn’t noticed before. 

“Your bag. You left it by the bus.” It’s probably a better idea to point out things like that rather than ruminate over how badly he wants to reach up and touch those freckles, just once. 

“It’s fine, I’ll grab it later. If anyone stole it, they’d be disappointed.” He laughs, the sound buzzing against Castiel’s chest. The relief Castiel feels when he looks up to see Sam waiting at the door for them is palpable. It’s a little easier to hold himself together around other people. 

“What happened?” Sam doesn’t look terribly surprised to see Dean carrying Castiel. Maybe it’s something he did all the time at home. Sam would be the one to know if he did. 

“Cole was being an asshole and Cas got pushed off the bus, twisted his ankle.” Squeezing Castiel’s leg, Dean hoists it a little higher, like Sam would be able to see the sprain. 

“I’m fine,” Castiel tacks on, shifting his grip around Dean’s neck, clasping his own arm. “Dean insisted on this.” Even though Sam seemed to accept it without question, Castiel still feels like he has to explain. 

“Good, make him carry you all the way to our room. I have the keys already.” Sam holds up a packet, two cards tucked into the pocket in the front. He tugs the door open, propping it with his foot and gesturing for Dean to head through. The lobby is abuzz with the chatter of the other students, breaking off into groups. Hardly anyone gives them a second look. For all their rubbernecking outside, they’d lost interest remarkably quickly. Charlie catches Castiel’s eye, and even across the room he can see her eyebrow shoot up. Heat floods his cheeks, and he’s relieved when they turn down the hall and he can pretend he didn’t notice. 

***

The knock on the door makes Castiel jump. Mr. Crowe has already done their nightly check-ins, Castiel isn’t sure who else could be here. He glances at Sam, who just shrugs and turns his attention back to the papers he’s sorting through. He’s taken over the small hotel table, marking little notes everywhere. Even though he and Kevin had won, he’d started in on perfecting everything the moment they’d gotten back to the room. Castiel rolls himself out of the bed and cracks the door open as far as it goes with the chain latched, peering through the space. “Dean?” 

“Let me in before I get caught.” He’s got a bowl of popcorn in his hands, throwing furtive glances up and down the hall. They were all supposed to be in their rooms by nine and after the last check they definitely weren’t supposed to leave. “Please,” Dean adds when Castiel still hasn’t moved, holding up the bowl in offering. “I brought snacks.” Sighing, Castiel pushes the door shut and unlocks the chain, opening it fully and ushering Dean inside. 

“You’re going to get in trouble,” Castiel says flatly, folding his arms as he closes the door behind Dean. 

“What’s Jody gonna do, bench me? We’re done with our games.” He’s radiating nonchalance, heading towards the bed and dropping himself down, propping his feet up. “Ew, Sam, are you doing  _ work _ right now?” 

“Why do you make that sound like it’s worse than sneaking out of your room?” Sam looks up at Dean, eyes flitting towards Castiel as he makes his way towards the other side of the bed slowly. 

“Because it is. Normal people sneak out of their rooms. Weirdos like you stay in and keep doing work after they did work all day.” Dean leans back, taking a piece of popcorn before holding the bowl towards Castiel. He looks towards Sam, unperturbed and still hunched over the papers in front of him, before slowly climbing onto the bed and taking a piece of the offered popcorn. 

“Benny’s not going to say anything?” He doesn’t seem like the type to tattle, especially if Dean told him where he was going, but Castiel knows he would still be worried. 

“Nah, I paid him handsomely for his silence. That reminds me…” Dean shifts, handing the popcorn bowl over so he can dig into his pockets, producing two cans of beer. “To celebrate. I would’ve brought Sam one too but he’d just drink his fancy water.” There is a large water bottle sitting on the table next to the papers, one Castiel had seen him fill up at least four times today. 

“Are you just trying to make sure we both get in trouble when you get caught?” Castiel accuses. Most people would have the sense to at least pretend to deny, but Dean just grins and nods, holding a can out to Castiel. 

“It’s strategy, Cas.” Dean cracks the other open and takes a long pull from it, wiggling himself back against the pillows he’s leaning against. Castiel hesitates, looking down at his own before he shrugs and pulls the tab. He’s had beer a handful of times and never really enjoyed the taste, but the little bit of a buzz can be nice, especially after a long day. Debate tournaments always were, they usually started at seven or eight in the morning and ran until about five. Castiel and Charlie had made it to the semi-finals, and his ankle is aching a little from standing on it for so long, but at least they’d got the last few hours sitting down. It’s assumed Dean had a long day too. He’d texted Castiel right after his game was over to tell him that they’d won, sharing a blurry selfie of him and the team, all looking sweaty and tired and exhilarated. A good shower and some dinner was apparently enough to bring Dean right back to his normal energy levels. 

“Congrats on your game today,” Castiel says, taking a small sip of the beer and trying not to pull a face. He’s not very successful, nose still crinkling up at the bitter drink. 

“We kicked ass!” Dean whoops. Sam shushes him from his seat, glaring at his brother. 

“I thought you were trying not to get caught.” 

“I never said that,” Dean answers, his voice much softer this time. “Here, stop working and have some popcorn with us, Sammy.” He holds out the bowl, wiggling a little, a few pieces tumbling over the side onto the floor. 

“I’m not hungry.” Sam leans over to pick up the pieces on the floor and sets them in a pile on the table next to his papers. 

“Bullshit, that’s the same excuse you used when we were all going to go to dinner earlier. You have to be hungry.” 

“I’m not, I had a really big lunch.” Castiel frowns, leaning forward a little to look past Dean at his brother. 

“Didn’t you and Kevin go run through your new papers during lunch?” Sam shoots him a look, somewhere between guilty and angry. 

“C’mon, Sam. It’s just some popcorn. I bet you’re hungrier than you realize, have some snacks with us.” When Sam still doesn’t answer, studiously looking down at his papers, Dean pulls out his pouting lip again. “Please?” he questions, dragging the word out long and sing-songy until Sam cracks, the corner of his lip pulling up. He tries to give Dean an annoyed look, but it’s not very successful even with the dramatic roll of his eyes. 

“Fine, just stop making that noise and I’ll have some popcorn.” Dean looks pleased as Sam reaches over and takes a handful of the popcorn, piling it on the table next to him and crunching into a piece. 

“I’m very persuasive,” he brags, grinning. “So, what are you guys watching? Well, what are  _ you _ watching, Cas? ‘Cause Sam the party pooper is only watching his little pen running across the paper.” Sam lifts his middle finger in response, but Dean’s point is proven considering his other hand is still adding notes. 

“Nothing, really. I was trying to find something but nothing looks that good.” He shrugs his shoulders, glancing at the screen. Some reality show he’d happened to stop at is playing, two women yelling at each other across a table. He has a hard time getting into things like this, he always ends up feeling sad that these people have such broken communication and all anyone is doing is filming them. 

“They’ve got a bunch of movies, I bet we could find something.” Dean grabs the remote and pulls up the guide, starting to flip through. “Let’s see… Dawn of the Planet of the Apes, that’s a classic. I Am Legend, that one is just  _ sad. _ Ooh, Nightmare on Elm Street if you want something spooky.” Dean looks over, wiggling his fingers in Castiel’s direction. 

“No thank you.” Horror movies didn’t sit well with Castiel either. He wouldn’t say he’s squeamish, but he doesn’t find joy in watching people getting their guts ripped out, either. 

“Fine, fine. Oh look, they have Bee Movie. I bet that’s one of your favorites.” It’s Castiel’s turn to roll his eyes, shaking his head and reaching over to grab some more popcorn, chasing it down with another sip of his beer. 

“I’ve never seen it.” 

“What?! You, with your bee sweater and bee sheets and bee pillow have never seen the infamous Bee Movie?” The look of absolute shock on Dean’s face is comical, as if he’d just found out Castiel had never slept in a bed or drank water. “Well, we’re watching it now. No arguing.” He cuts Sam off mid-groan, clicking on the movie and getting himself comfy again. “You’ll love it,” he promises. Castiel didn’t have anything he wanted to watch anyway, so this worked well enough for him. Within minutes the plot has him baffled, watching these cartoon insects bustle around a strangely futuristic little town. 

“Worker bees are generally female,” he comments. “It doesn’t really make sense that Barry would be so worried about his assignment. They don’t have choices. Why does he have parents? They’re all descendents of the queen.” Looking over he sees Dean absolutely beaming at him, smile so wide that it leaves a whisper of dimples pressed into his cheeks. 

“Are you like a secret bee expert or something? Maybe you were a bee in your past life.” Dean nudges Castiel with his shoulder, leaning against him. 

“These are well-known facts,” Castiel argues, but that only serves to make Dean grin even wider. 

“Well I hate to disappoint you Cas, but it doesn’t get much more logical from here.” Castiel finds that hard to believe until ten minutes later the bee is chatting up a human and sharing a cup of coffee. His commentary goes quieter, there’s too many fallacies to keep up with. He keeps himself busy with popcorn and finishing off his beer. Dean hands the last of the bowl over to Sam and settles in even more, slumping down on the bed until his head is level with Castiel’s shoulder. 

Sam eventually gathers his papers and switches off the lamp he’d been working by. The primary source of light for the room, it suddenly feels much later. Dean’s growing heavier against his side and when Castiel looks over he’s only mildly surprised to see that his eyes are closed. 

“Should we send him back?” Sam has made himself at home on the sofa, stretched out with his feet propped up on the arm. He has a blanket too, Castiel had thought he’d seen an extra in the closet but he doesn’t remember Sam getting it. 

“Nah, he’ll just get caught. I can sleep here.” To emphasize, he pulls the blanket up around his shoulders. “Be careful, he likes to cuddle. Good night, Cas.” 

“Very funny, Sam.” He’s met with silence and when he picks up his head to look over at the sofa, Sam has his eyes closed. “Sam?” He knows very well that he didn’t fall asleep that quickly, but if he’s not going to answer him there’s not a lot he can do about it. Sighing, Castiel shifts, maneuvering himself to lie down in the bed. Dean’s still in his jeans and half propped up, which doesn’t look very comfortable. Hesitantly, Castiel reaches out and shakes his shoulder. Dean’s eyes flutter open, groggy and clouded. 

“Hey, do you want to lay down?” To sleep, they were just going to share the bed to sleep. Castiel shared the bed with Sam the night before and hadn’t even thought about it. He could sleep next to Dean and not make it a big deal, no matter how adorable Dean looks blinking sleepily at him. Dean nods and squirms down until his head lands on the pillow, grabbing the blankets and pulling them up around his shoulders. 

“Where’s Sammy?” Dean looks like he’s struggling to keep his eyes open long enough to ask, bringing one hand up to scrub over his face. 

“On the sofa. I can switch with him, if you want.” Even if they’re friends, he wouldn’t blame Dean. Sleeping next to the gay boy might be weird, especially if he could just share the bed with his brother instead. 

“Nuh uh. Stay.” Trying very hard not to let that go to his head, Castiel nods and settles in, pulling the blankets around himself a little more tightly as well. 

“Alright. Goodnight, Dean.” 

“Mm. Night, Cas. You’re…” The TV is still playing quietly in the background, casting a soft light over Dean’s face. His freckles stand out even here. Castiel lets his eyes trace over them for a moment, landing on the one right at the corner of Dean’s eye. He’s never going to be able to stop noticing it now. 

“I’m?” he prompts softly. Even with his eyes only half open, Dean’s studying his face. Castiel could swear that his gaze lingers on his lips. Dean’s tongue flickers out, wetting his own lips, and Castiel’s heart starts to hammer in his chest. They’re laying close enough he can feel a puff of warm air as Dean sighs, dragging his eyes back up to Castiel’s. 

“You’re just… you’re… really nice.” Castiel feels immobilized being so close, such a soft look in Dean’s eyes. He doesn’t know what to say back to that, if Dean means that he’s nice or that he’s  _ nice _ nice. Before he can gather an answer, Dean rolls onto his back and closes his eyes. Castiel lays there for a few long minutes just watching him, waiting for his heartbeat to slow. 

He’s kind of fucked. No matter how much he denies it, he likes Dean. A lot. Dean doesn’t make it any easier. He’s always so fucking sweet, reaching out when Castiel is struggling. Always texting to see how he’s doing, loaning him his clothes, sharing stupid movie suggestions and sending Castiel pictures of every bee thing he comes across. He can’t be mad at Dean for that, either, it’s not his responsibility to make it easier for Castiel. No, Cas has to be responsible for his own feelings, and right now he wishes he could just get rid of all of them. Frustrated tears well up in his eyes. He doesn’t let them spill until he’s turned away from Dean, hiding his face in the blanket. 

Three hours later, Castiel gives up on sleep entirely. Every time he thinks he might drift off, Dean shifts a little closer, or wraps his arm around Castiel’s waist, or presses his face to Castiel’s shoulder with a sleepy snuffle. His brain keeps flipping violently back and forth between loving being close to the other and hating himself for loving it. He slips carefully out of the bed, grabs his phone, and settles himself in the small chair by the window. At least he can sleep on the bus tomorrow. 


	10. Chapter 10

If Charlie sits any closer to Dorothy, she’ll be in her lap. It’s kind of disgusting, but Dean is also happy for them. It’s hard not to be, when they both look so pleased. At least they got their own bowls of ice cream. “Dude, I can’t believe you already have your acceptance letter. I haven’t even finished my application yet.” 

“Aren’t you supposed to have it turned in already?” Charlie questions, plucking a cherry from the top of her bowl. 

“Friday. So I still have…” Dean pulls out his phone and glances at the screen. “About 36 hours.” 

“Not pushing at all, are you?” Dorothy questions, eyebrow raised. 

“First of all, 36 hours is plenty of time. Second of all, we’re not here to talk about me.” The ice cream in front of him is chocolate on chocolate with pieces of cookie dough mixed in. Super sweet, he’s going to regret it in an hour or two, but it’s worth the taste. “So are you applying to Polytechnic now too?” 

“I am, my advisor said it should be an easy switch.” Dorothy’s arm wraps a little more tightly around Charlie’s shoulder, trying to pull her closer. 

“Think you’ll ever come back to visit little old Lawrence again?” Considering Dean’s only been here since August, that’s about as far back as his friendship with Charlie travels, but he knows he’ll miss her. Senior year was the shittiest time to start making new friends, everyone would be gone by the next year. Dean doesn’t even know that he’s going to be here next year. Getting into college would be a shock, and he still doesn’t think that he wants to go.

“Well, my mom still lives here, so yes, I would say so.” Whatever fruit-filled abomination Charlie decided to get she’s enjoying, but Dean doesn’t understand it. What’s the point of getting ice cream if you were going to ruin it with healthy choices? “It’ll be kind of cool not to live here anymore, though. I don’t  _ not _ like the whole small town kind of vibe but sometimes it’d be nice not to be around people who knew about the time you fell off the slide and broke your nose in second grade.” Dean snorts, nearly inhaling some of his ice cream, hitting himself on the chest a few times. 

“Plus you’re not as likely to run into your exes. I swear I see Robert every other day and he always wants to talk to me.” Dorothy crinkles her nose in distaste, shaking her head. 

“Was he like, your last ex before you were lesbian?” Dean’s not expecting the somewhat steely gaze he gets from both Dorothy and Charlie, holding his hands up in surrender. “Hey, I’m not judging.” 

“Well, for your information, I happen to identify as bisexual.” 

“Oh.” Dean looks down at his bowl with a little frown. He’s heard about it before. Bisexuality. People who say they like boys and girls. He’d always just assumed it was… fake. People who were confused or trying to hide something. 

“Is that a problem?” Dorothy’s gaze is still rigid, but Charlie has softened slightly, glancing between them.

“No, no, not at all. I just- I, uh, I don’t think I’ve ever met someone who says- Who is bisexual. Or who told me, I guess.” He’s stumbling over his words, he knows it. It’s not that he’s uncomfortable with Dorothy, it’s just the idea. That someone could really, genuinely have attraction to boys and girls. It makes his stomach twist and the pile of sugar in front of him is suddenly less appealing. 

“Probably just never met anyone who told you.” Dorothy gives a little shrug. “Not really anyone else’s business.” 

“No, it’s not. Anyway, cool to get away from your ex, I can understand that.” This seems to placate Dorothy, her shoulders relaxing a little. 

“Plus, the campus is really pretty.” It’s a welcome change of conversation, and it makes Dorothy light up a little, looking over at Charlie. 

“It is, did you see the new flower garden thing they’re planning? It’s supposed to open next year.” Dean lets the conversation turn to a buzz in his ears, pushing around the rapidly melting ice cream in front of him. It’s cool, they’ll be going to the same place and they’re so excited about it. They can study together and hang out together, go on stupid airplane dates and geek out about their board games Dean’s never gotten into. They’re not just dating, it’s like they’re best friends, too. 

It wasn’t like that with Lisa. They were friendly enough, sure, but he didn’t want to call her when he wanted to talk about the new movie he saw. He never went and sought her out after a particularly bad day, at least not to talk about it. He liked to kiss her, and he liked that she liked him, and a little bit of him even liked that it pissed off Cole. But they weren’t  _ friends _ . 

Then there’s Cas. They can stay up all night talking to each other. He can make Dean laugh until his stomach hurts. He’s smart and kind and funny and half the time they’re together Dean catches himself staring at Castiel’s lips and wondering if they’re as soft as they look. It scares the shit out of him. He kept telling himself it’s just a weird thing, one that he’d started thinking about too hard so now he kept circling back to it. Cas is his friend. That’s it. Dean dates girls and has one friend who, sometimes, maybe, he’s thought about kissing. That doesn’t make him gay. 

It doesn’t exactly make him straight, either. 

Motion across the table catches his eye. Dorothy pushes herself up, saying something about the bathroom. Charlie looks over at the sludge in Dean’s bowl, reaching across the table and grabbing a spoonful. Most of it drips off her spoon before she can get it to her mouth, but she’s quick to wipe a napkin over the sticky spot. “I told you that was too much chocolate.” 

“How did you know?” 

“Uh, because there’s probably like, 150 grams of sugar in the ice cream alone.” It doesn’t stop Charlie from reaching back across to take another spoonful, though. 

“No, no. I meant- How did you… Char, how did you know you were gay?” She looks up quickly, the liquid ice cream sloshing off her spoon onto her shirt. 

“Shit.” Grabbing another napkin, she starts to dab at it, shaking her head. She gives up quickly, plopping her elbows on the table and focusing her gaze on Dean. “I knew I was gay after every crush I had for 15 years was on a girl. But, you know, my mom was super cool about it. Even since I was little, she’d always say stuff like ‘you’ll find your prince or princess someday.’ Just throwing it out there so it was… normal. Which it  _ is _ . Our school is pretty small and there’s at least three of us out in our class, and I’m willing to bet there are more who haven’t figured it all out yet.” She pauses, reaching across the table and poking Dean’s arm gently. “Maybe some that are figuring it out right now.” 

“I’m not gay,” Dean says quickly, immediately regretting it. He wouldn’t blame Charlie if she took offense to that, but she just settles back, expression still open. “I mean… I like girls. I do. I’ve dated a lot of girls.” 

“But?” Dean’s throat goes tight. He drops his head to his hands, scrubbing at his eyes. 

“But… I might… There might be a guy, too. I don’t know, I didn’t- I didn’t think you could like both. And Dorothy just says it like it’s no big deal, there are really people out there who just… accept it.  _ I don’t know _ .” He groans softly into his hands, shaking his head. He’s not ready to look up, he doesn’t want to see how Charlie is looking at him. This is shit he hasn’t figured out in his own head yet, he doesn’t know why he’s spilling it out to someone else. 

“Hey.” Charlie’s voice is closer, and when Dean picks up his head he’s surprised not to find her sitting across from him. She’s moved over to his booth, putting a gentle hand on his shoulder and giving it a squeeze. “This is messy. It took Dorothy a long time to figure it out. It took me a long time to figure it out, and that’s even with the coolest mom on the planet. And you know, you don’t have to label anything. You like who you like and that’s all there is to it. Fuck everyone else.” 

A small smile pulls at the corner of Dean’s lips. “Fuck everyone else,” he echoes. “I don’t even think I have to ask but… please don’t tell anyone. I don’t even know what the hell is going on.” 

“My lips are sealed, I promise.” Charlie swears it solemnly, giving Dean’s shoulder another squeeze. “It’s not very good blackmail if I give it all away,” she tacks on, letting a smirk take over. 

“You wouldn’t blackmail me, you’d probably just break into my bank accounts or something.” That makes her laugh, shaking her head. 

“Hey, I know you. Breaking into your bank accounts would be more trouble than it’s worth.” Dean gives her shoulder a gentle shove, rolling his eyes. She laughs, looking up as Dorothy returns to the table. 

“Trying to pull a move on my girlfriend?” She slides in the booth across from them, giving them a grin. 

“Gross, no,” Dean says at the same time Charlie makes a face and gags dramatically. Dorothy laughs, arm coming around Charlie’s shoulder as she moves to her side once more. 

A muffled rock song starts to play from Dean’s pocket, overshadowed at first by the music streaming from the speakers above him, but the incessant buzz against his leg finally gets his attention. Sam’s picture flashes across the screen, one that he hates. There’s a blue mustache drawn under his nose, a random line across his forehead and running down the side of his cheek. Dean called it ‘bonding with Adam,’ but Sam hadn’t been so happy when he woke up. Of course, he’d had his own bonding time about a week later and they’d gone to town using Dean’s face as a canvas. 

“What’s up, bitch?” he answers, leaning back and pushing his spoon through the puddle of ice cream left. Such a shame, to let it go to waste. Drinking it would almost be like a milkshake, right? 

“Is this Dean?” The voice on the other end of the line is unfamiliar and hesitant. Dean straightens up a little, frowning. 

“Yeah, this is him. Where’s Sam?” Charlie and Dorothy are both watching him from across the table, wearing matching looks of concern. 

“Your brother passed out during practice today. He’s fine now, but obviously he doesn’t need to stay for the rest of practice. We typically require a guardian to pick him up, but he said you are 18, correct?” 

“Shit. Yeah, I am, yeah. What happened?” He cradles the phone between his shoulder and ear, tugging his jacket on while he tries to wiggle out of the booth at the same time. 

“Looks like a simple case of overexertion. The nurse checked him out and gave him the all clear to go home. You’ll want to make sure he gets plenty of rest tonight and keep him hydrated.” Dean knows Sam’s been pushing himself lately, but he didn’t think it was this bad. He feels a pang of guilt, he’s been so wrapped up in his own thoughts he missed how stressed Sam had to be. 

“Okay, I’ll be there in ten minutes.” With an affirmative from the other, Dean hangs up and finally manages to get out of the booth, tugging his jacket on and stuffing his phone in the pocket. 

“Is everything alright?” Charlie frowns up at him, looking ready to leap out of the booth herself. 

“Sam passed out at soccer, I need to go pick him up. They said he’s fine, but…” Dean shakes his head, sighing. “I’ll text you later. Nice seeing you, Dorothy.” He gives them a quick wave before hurrying out the door and to his car. 

The drive doesn’t take the full ten minutes, it’s much closer to five with the way Dean races through the streets. The woman on the phone said Sam was fine, but he wanted to confirm it with his own two eyes. He pulls up in front of the school, Sam and presumably the woman on the phone sitting outside on a bench. Sam’s still in his uniform, a grass stain running up the side. He has his head ducked, only glancing up at Dean for a quick moment when he climbs out of the car. 

“Dean?” The woman stands and holds out a hand. Dean does his best to hold a semi-professional type of facade as he shakes it. “Like I said, just keep an eye on him tonight. He should be okay, but if you notice he’s acting strangely at all, go ahead and take him to the doctor.” Sam would usually protest about being talked about like he wasn’t right there but he stays silent, staring down at his hands. 

“Yeah, yeah, of course.” She nods, giving Sam a brief, worried look before she heads back towards the field. Sam stands, slinging his bag over his shoulder and starting towards the car without looking at Dean, the door creaking as he yanks it open. Dean frowns after him, watching for a moment before he follows and climbs in the drivers side. 

“I’m fine,” Sam is quick to say once Dean closes the door behind him. 

“Most people don’t pass out when they’re fine.” He doesn’t really look  _ fine _ , either. He looks tired, hair hanging limply around his face, dark circles around his eyes. There’s bruises on his arm, faint and hard to notice without really looking, but now that Dean’s noticing them he sees more and more. 

“Well, I’m not most people,” Sam snaps, folding his arms over his chest when he notices Dean looking. “I just want to go home.” 

“Sammy, I’m worried about you. Isn’t there something we can cut out of your schedule? You’re only a freshman, I can guarantee that you’re doing more than enough for your college applications.” 

“First of all, it’s Sam. Second of all, I don’t think I should be taking any academic advice from you.” Even though Dean knows that his application is weak at best, Sam’s usually gently encouraging him. It feels like a punch in the gut to hear the other spit out those words so sourly. Dean presses his lips into a thin line, cranking the key in the ignition. This time when Sam makes a face at the volume of the radio, Dean just turns it up louder. 

They spend the rest of the ride in silence. Dean half expects Sam to break it when they pull up at the house, but Sam just climbs out of his seat and storms inside. Dean stays put, dropping his head back against the seat with a heavy sigh. He doesn’t understand his own feelings, how the hell is he supposed to try to understand Sam’s? It leaves a pit in his stomach and a sour taste in his mouth. 

He could just start the engine up again, drive away. He’s got his ID and a few bucks in his pocket. There were ways to make money, he could camp out in the Impala until he’d saved up enough to get some scrappy little apartment. The perfect setting for living out the rest of his days as a lonely, confused high school drop out with no skills. Entertaining the thought briefly, Dean knows that he can’t. Sam might not say he needs him here, but Dean doesn’t think he could leave him. Especially not right now, irritated as he is with his brother. 

Finally Dean puts an end to his pity party and heads inside. Kate is standing in the kitchen as he comes in, looking around the doorframe. “You two are home early. Everything okay? Sam tried to take down the house stomping up the stairs.” 

“Yeah, Sam had… an injury during practice, so I picked him up.” Why is he lying? Maybe he thinks that keeping it quiet will earn him some brownie points with Sam. Kate doesn’t look entirely convinced, but she nods, stepping back into the kitchen. She’s very kind to them, but Dean still feels a tug of resentment towards her sometimes. How could he not? His dad chose her over them, chose their child over Sam and Dean. A childish part of Dean feels like John is betraying their mother by moving on. Thinking about all that just adds another layer to the heavy guilt already weighing on Dean. He does his best to shake it off, trudging up the stairs. 

His college application is waiting for him at his desk. Desperate for a distraction, Dean decides to give it a shot. He gets everything pulled up on his laptop, settling back in his seat. The pictures pinned to the wall above him catch his attention. He’s not sure if he’s already looking for a distraction or he’s just in a contemplative mood today, but he takes his time looking over the photos. His favorites are the ones from a few years ago, where Sam is still small and has a toothy, ridiculous grin he hasn’t grown into yet. Sam really looked up to him then. Dean doesn’t understand why, it’s not like he’s ever been exceptional, but he realizes with a pang that he misses being his brother’s idol. 

Stuck between a faded and creased picture of his mom and a print of Sam’s yearbook photo is a strip of photos. Garth wanted company to see a new werewolf movie and Sam had volunteered both him and Dean. Castiel happened to be free too, so Dean had drug him along as well. There was a photobooth in the main lobby, cheesy themed frames and filters on each panel. Sam and Garth mysteriously disappeared, so poor Castiel had been the only sucker left for the photo op. 

There was a full moon in the corner of the print, and the only reason that Dean didn’t have a picture of him mooning the camera was because Castiel had turned the most alarming shade of red Dean’s ever seen when he joked about it. Instead, all four photos are their faces. Castiel’s smile is tentative in the first two panels. By the third one, Dean had found a face that made Castiel crack. Dean looked absolutely hideous, bottom teeth jutting out and eyes rolled back in his head. Castiel was glowing, smiling so widely his eyes were nearly closed, nose crinkled up just a little like it did when Dean could get him laughing. That expression sends a wave of warmth through him that quickly becomes icy. 

This isn’t really what he needed to be worried about right now. He does only have 36 hours to work on his application. Something is wrong with Sam, and even though Dean’s giving him his space now he needs to check in on him. Castiel is probably going to get into some high brow school with a fancy scholarship and disappear in a few months and forget all about Dean. His sexuality crisis could wait, it was only going to make his life more complicated now. He pulls the photo strip down, shoving it in his desk drawer. Out of sight, out of mind. 

Maybe it’s the pressure of his dwindling time, or that he’s so desperate to avoid thinking about Castiel, but Dean is actually able to settle in and focus on his application essay. He writes more in an hour than he has in the last three weeks put together. It’s not good writing, he doesn’t think he’s even capable of good writing, but at least it’s something. He’s so focused that he flinches when there’s a knock on the door, swiveling in his chair. 

“Hey.” Sam pushes the door open a crack, peeking in slowly. “Can I come in?” He looks a little better after a shower, hair pulled back away from his face. 

“Yeah.” Dean stretches his arms over his head, surprised by the symphony of popping that erupts along his vertebrae. He could use a break, it seems. Sam steps in, pushing the door shut behind him and leaning back against it. 

“I’m sorry.” Sam reaches up to push back a strand of hair that had fallen across his forehead, tucking it behind his ear. “I was being an ass.” 

“Yeah, you kind of were.” Dean doesn’t have the heart to make Sam squirm for long. Sam hadn’t said anything that wasn’t true, Dean could only be so mad. “I’m a big boy, though. I’ll get over it. What’s going on with you?” 

“Nothing.” The expression on Dean’s face hardens and Sam sighs, running his hand over his face. “I’m just tired. Finals coming up for debate and classes and my training has been crazy lately.” 

“So take a break.” Sam quickly shakes his head, staring at a spot on the floor just next to Dean’s foot. 

“The semester is almost over and then I have to take a break. Three weeks off. I’ll be alright, I swear.” Slowly, Sam looks up at him, biting his lip. “Please don’t tell Kate and Dad.” 

“Because you know they’re gonna make you take a break too?” Sam shakes his head, but he diverts his gaze to the floor again. Putting Sam in danger by not telling doesn’t sit well with Dean, but neither does the thought of going and getting them to add to Sam’s stress again. “Fine. I’ll keep my mouth shut. But if this happens again I’m letting them know. Fair?” 

“Fair,” Sam agrees, nodding his head a little. “I think I heard Kate say dinner was almost ready.” 

“Good, my brain is melting up here.” Saving the essay quickly, Dean closes his laptop and heads to the door. He doesn’t realize until they’re sit at the table that this is the first time Sam’s eaten with them all week. 

***

The silence in the air is heavy and uncomfortable. This might be the first time Dean’s been alone with his dad since they moved out here. John stands in front of the car, a hand on his hip and the other lifting a can of beer to his lips. His dad is perfectly capable of changing the brakes by himself, but Dean thought he would offer a hand and they’d get some quality time together. So far, the only words they’ve exchanged have been to ask for a tool or a light positioned a certain way. 

“So. Sam said he’s got some kind of awards dinner next week.” Dean looks up in surprise, sliding himself out from under the car, dusting his hands on his jeans, leaving greasy black streaks behind. 

“Yeah, it’s for his debate team. Wednesday, I bet he’s going to get like, 15 trophies.” He’s heard Castiel and Charlie talking about how Sam had been killing it already, and every time it makes him swell with pride. He’s looking forward to embarrassing his brother and making a ruckus every time they call his name. 

“Give out trophies for anything these days, don’t they? When I was in school I had to earn them,” John grumbles, taking another swig of the beer. It’s the fourth or fifth one he’s had since they started working, Dean’s lost track at this point. He frowns, standing and folding his arms across his chest. 

“Well, Sam’s been working his ass off. I’d say he deserves them.” 

“That little twig? Doesn’t even know how to keep his head on straight, the real world is going to kick him in the ass when he gets out there.” It was getting worse, every time that their dad drank. These snide little comments, most of them shooting at Sam and Dean. He’d heard Kate arguing with him through the walls late into the night, and for a day or two he wouldn’t touch the beer, but the next time they came home he’d have an empty twelve pack next to his chair. 

“Good thing he’s got a couple more years to figure it out then.” Dean bends to pick up some of the tools scattered around the car, trying to keep his voice light. He spends most of his time just trying to divert these conversations, even though they made him sick to his stomach. 

“Doubt he will,” John sighs, settling back on one of the stools near his work bench. “He’s always out fucking around. I don’t know how he expects to get anywhere.” 

“Dad, he’s out doing stuff for school. Studying or doing his debate prep or soccer practice, he’s not just fucking around.” John rolls his eyes and Dean clenches his jaw, setting down one of the wrenches in his hand with a little too much force on the bench, making it clatter loudly. 

“You gonna start throwing my tools around because I hurt your feelings?” John accuses. Dean grits his teeth, shaking his head. 

“I wasn’t throwing anything around.” He turns towards John, giving him a thin smile. “You should really give Sam more of a chance, he’s working really hard.” 

“What do you know about what I should be doing? When’s the last time you raised three kids?” This conversation isn’t going anywhere good. Dean leans back against the bench, hands curling around the edge, trying to ground himself. 

“I’m just saying, Sam’s not doing anything wrong.” He shouldn’t argue, but he can’t stand listening to his dad shit all over Sam for doing what he’s supposed to be. “Do you need help with the other side or not?” Dean looks pointedly at the car, hoping to draw his dad’s attention away from this. 

“I didn’t need your help in the first place, smart ass,” John scoffs, pushing himself off his stool, a little unsteady on his feet. 

“Whatever. I’m going inside then.” Dean starts towards the door, surprised to feel John’s hand come down on his shoulder. 

“I didn’t say you could go. You think you can just walk around here like you own the place, your attitude needs to change. I deserve a little more respect around here.” Dean’s hands curl into fists at his side, his jaw clenching again. 

“You said you didn’t need my help, I was getting out of the way.” He can’t help glancing at the beer in John’s hand, and he knows he shouldn’t say anything about it, but his irritation seems to be blocking out the rational reminder. “Maybe we’d respect you a little more if you weren’t always drunk off your ass.” He expects John to get upset, but he doesn’t expect the sting of his hand against his cheek. 

“This is the kind of shit I’m talking about. This is my house, I can drink what I want to. We’re letting you stay here, but if you want to keep acting like this we don’t have to. I don’t want your shitty attitude rubbing off on Sam and Adam. You’re going to listen to me from here on out, damnit!” John advances on him, shoving at his shoulders and sending Dean stumbling back over his feet. 

He grunts as his back hits the wall. His face still burning where John had slapped him, entire body itching with rage. He could stand here and scream at his dad all night long, but it wouldn’t do any good. Shoving himself away from the wall, he pushes past John, the other’s drunkenness making it a little easier. “Don’t walk away from me while I’m talking to you, son.” Dean ignores him, letting the garage door muffle his dad’s shouts as it slams behind him. 

The front door he shuts with more care, not wanting to alert Kate or Sam. He doesn’t want anyone running after him, he needs to get out. His hands and jeans are still streaked with grease, leaving a slick spot on the steering wheel where he touches it as he climbs into the Impala, jamming the keys into the ignition. The car could be cleaned tomorrow. 

Some good luck must be on Dean’s side, considering he doesn’t get pulled over speeding out of the neighborhood and down the main street. The engine has been roaring, working hard, going significantly quieter when Dean finally eases his foot off the gas. His eyes are stinging, the road in front of him blurring. He finds a spot to pull over on the side of the road and parks, slamming his hands down on the steering wheel over and over again. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!” He screams loud enough to leave his throat raw. His palms ache where he abused them, echoing a more subtle pain that’s creeping through the rest of his body. 

What has he done to deserve this? He took care of Sam when it was just them. He helped out Bobby, worked in school when they told him to. Came home for curfew even when he didn’t want to, turned his music down, picked Adam up from school. Apparently, it isn’t enough. He’s still a disappointment. With a desperate sob, he drops his head against the steering wheel, shoulders shaking. What else can he do? He cries until he doesn’t have any tears left, leaving him exhausted. 

The idea of going back home sounds awful. He’d love to get a shower and clean clothes, but he doesn’t want to look any of his family in the eye tonight. Without thinking, he pulls out his phone, thumb leaving a greasy trail across the front where he swipes. 

“Dean?” Of course Castiel is the first person he’d think to call. He doesn’t have the energy to start examining that, pushing it to the back of his mind. 

“Hey. Can I come over?” He can hear Samandriel in the background, chattering away. 

“Yes, it’s Dean, remember him?” There’s a pause. “Adam’s brother, yes. Sorry, I’m getting ready to take Samandriel over to his friends house.” 

“Oh- Sorry. Yeah, I’m sure you’re busy. Tell him to have fun.” 

“Whoa, hold on. I kind of want to get out of here tonight anyway.” Castiel drops his voice to a whisper. “Gabriel’s supposed to come pick up some more of his stuff, we’re all clearing out.” He clears his throat, speaking normally again. “It’ll take me a few minutes, but I could meet you at the school.” 

“The school?” Dean repeats doubtfully. “Cas, it’s eight at night, I don’t think the school is open, and even if it was I don’t know that I want to hang out there.” 

“Just- Trust me on this, okay?” Despite himself, Dean smiles softly. 

“Alright, alright. Hey, could you bring back one of my hoodies? I’m sort of a mess.” The jeans will have to do, he can wash his hands in the bathroom sink. It’s not as good as a shower, but it’s something. 

“Of course. I’ll see you soon.” Samandriel’s voice pipes up in the background again, but it’s cut off as Castiel hangs up. Picking his head up slowly, Dean glances out onto the road. He doesn’t actually know where he is, he hadn’t been paying attention while he was driving. Thank whoever was out there for GPS. He taps the school’s name into his phone and a map pops up, an annoyingly cheerful voice chirping directions to him. 

Castiel’s car is already there when Dean pulls up. He’s surprised to see it’s empty, frowning as he pulls up next to it. He sends a quick text, letting Castiel know he’s here. 

**Cas:** Come to the window by the cafeteria 

Dean frowns down at the message. Not what he was expecting, but Castiel said to trust him. He climbs out of the car, wincing at how loudly his door closes in the quiet of the night. He rounds the corner, hugging his arms closer to his side. It’s too cold to be out here without a jacket but he hadn’t been thinking of that when he ran out the door. Castiel has the window pushed open, hanging out of it and waving at Dean when he sees him. “You know, the school does have doors.” 

“And the doors have alarms.” Castiel disappears back into the window, staring out at Dean. 

“Are we breaking into the school?” Maybe he’s a bad influence, but Dean is grinning as he comes up to the window, peeking in. The hallway Castiel is standing in is dark, one of the doors at the end propped open with what looks like Castiel’s shoe. A glance down at his feet confirms as much. 

“I already did, you are standing outside trying to get caught. Come on.” Dean grins a little wider, hoisting himself in through the window. Castiel is quick to reach around him and pull the window shut. It’s hard to tell in the dark, but Dean thinks his cheeks go red when he turns back around. “What? It’s not really breaking in if the window is unlocked already, right?” 

“I don’t know that the cops would go for that, but I like the way you think.” Dean glances back over his shoulder, relieved to see he hadn’t left any greasy handprints where he’d pulled himself through. “Is it safe to go to the bathroom? I need to wash up.” 

“Yeah, use the one down the hall with history classrooms. The cameras have a pretty big blind spot there.” Throwing another glance at Dean’s widening grin, Castiel ducks his head. “Look, you broke into the office to get my records, I just wanted to see if it was hard. It’s not. The security room really should be more secure.” 

“I didn’t realize you were such a troublemaker, Cas. I have so much to learn about you.” Castiel rolls his eyes, giving Dean’s shoulder a gentle shove. 

“Go wash your hands, you look disgusting.” It’s true, so Dean doesn’t take any offense to it, heading off to the designated bathroom. The school is weirdly quiet, Dean’s footsteps echoing loudly as he walks down the hall. It’s kind of creepy, standing in front of the mirror without any lights on, so Dean keeps his gaze trained down on his hands. Without any light it’s hard to tell if he’s washed all the grease off, but he’s scrubbed as long as he’s going to. He tries to grab a paper towel, but apparently the dark makes it hard for the sensor to realize there’s a person in front of it, and he’s only going to spend so long standing in front of it waving his arms around. 

Castiel is waiting for him in the hall, looking more relaxed than Dean would expect considering they really aren’t supposed to be here. “Ready?” 

“Ready for what?” Dean questions, arching an eyebrow. Castiel pushes himself away from the wall, a mischievous grin pulling at the corners of his lips. 

“Follow me.” With that he turns on heel and heads down the hall, gait a little lopsided with only one shoe on. Surprised, Dean can’t do much else but follow, letting Castiel lead him through the propped door and towards the gym, watching him grab the shoe on his way. 

There’s a startling finality with which the door closes behind them, echoing around the gym. The room seems incomprehensibly vast in the darkness, nowhere for Dean’s eyes to focus. Light floods a circle in front of them, and it takes Dean a moment to realize Castiel has pulled out his phone to use as a flashlight. It takes another few seconds for his eyes to adjust. There’s a few chairs pushed together, something sat on a cart plugged in just behind them. It looks like there’s a projector balanced on top, and now that Dean’s eyes are adjusting he does see the ghost of a sheet hanging up on the wall. 

“Kevin asked a couple of debate kids to help out with student council, setting stuff up for the little end of the semester carnival we’re having at the end of the week. We’ve got a Wii and Smash Bros.” Castiel wanders towards the chairs, picking something up off one of them and tossing it towards Dean. “Hoodie, as requested.” 

“They just leave the stuff sitting around in here?” Dean questions in surprise, tugging the hoodie on over his head. 

“The gym is technically locked. But I might have… borrowed the key.” Castiel turns away, starting to fiddle with the projector. 

“Breaking in and stealing? Who are you, and what have you done with Cas?” 

“Eugh, that’s a terrible line. I can’t believe you’d use that.” Dean can hear the smile in his voice though. He wanders towards the pillows, dropping himself down on one of the seats, dragging another in front of him to prop his feet up. The projector whirs to life, casting light up onto the wall. Castiel disappears from Dean’s periphery, and a few seconds later the game shows up on the screen. 

“If you needed to talk or something, we could do that instead,” Castiel offers, coming around the chairs and handing Dean a controller, expression sheepish. 

“Absolutely not. I just want to kick your ass, I think that’ll be enough to make me feel better.” Talking would mean thinking about everything and Dean doesn’t want to do that. Castiel seems happy to agree, settling into the chair next to Dean at an angle so he can prop his feet up on the same chair across from them. Knocking the toe of Castiel’s shoe with his boot, Dean starts the game. 

It’s fun, and it’s easy, and it’s just what Dean needed. Castiel isn’t particularly good at the game. Any time he gets too close to the edge of the stage he ends up leaping off of it, and any added buoyancy to his character throws him off. They cycle through their favorites before diving into themed battles. Princess, animals, questionable living blobs. They don’t talk much, but it’s nothing like the crushing silence that had hung over Dean and his dad. It’s comfortable and easy, little comments here and there, coordination to start the next round, that’s all they need. 

Eventually, Dean’s hand is cramping from grasping the controller so hard and his eyelids are feeling itchy and heavy. Castiel’s been biting back yawns for two or three rounds now, and it seems like a good place to stop. Castiel stretches as he stands, wandering back to turn off the console and the projector. It whirs quietly as it powers down, the gym descending into darkness once again. He hears Castiel come back around, their feet bumping together again as Castiel settles back into his chair. 

“I guess we should head out soon.” Dean says it, but he’s made no move to get out of the chair. Honestly, he’s so tired he could probably sleep right here. Castiel’s face glows next to him, squinting down at his phone. 

“It’s past midnight.” Same sentiment, but again, neither of them move. “Is everything okay?” 

“Yeah. No. Just… family shit, you know?” 

“I get it.” Dean bites his lip, feeling a twist of guilt in his stomach. Castiel’s watching his family move away, worried about drugs and real danger, and Dean’s sitting here throwing a pity party because he’s not his dad’s favorite. 

“I’m probably just blowing it out of proportion.” It’s a little easier to talk now, darkness engulfing them. He can’t see Castiel respond, he’s nothing more than a slightly darker shadow next to Dean. 

“I doubt it.” Dean scoffs softly, shaking his head. He’s surprised to feel a warm hand rest over his, tentative but present. “You wouldn’t have called me like you did if you didn’t need someone.” Castiel’s hand squeezes gently over his, and it makes Dean feel disgustingly close to tears again. 

“I just don’t get it. My dad, he forces us to move out here and then spends the whole time being pissed about it. What am I supposed to do?” Dean cuts off when his voice breaks, swallowing thickly. He’s not going to cry again, once was enough for the day. Probably for the whole year. 

“There’s nothing you can do. You just have to-” A distant bang cuts Castiel off and both boys jolt, looking around the dark room in a panic. Silence, then another distant bang, though this one sounds closer. “Night janitors,” Castiel hisses, scrabbling to his feet. He’s grasping Dean’s hand now, tugging him up as well. 

“At midnight?” 

“Yes at midnight. Shit, I knew there was a reason I was supposed to remember midnight.” The next door opens so close Dean swears he can hear it creaking on the hinges. Castiel throws another look around the room, dragging Dean towards a corner. He’s not sure how that’s really going to help, until Castiel pushes a door open and pulls Dean inside. It’s stuffy and small, some kind of broom closet. A bag of half-deflated basketballs is tangled at their feet, and something keeps tickling Dean’s shoulder. 

“Fearless break in Cas isn’t so fearless after all?” Dean questions, grinning. He should probably be more concerned, they might actually get in a lot of trouble if they get caught, but this is how he deals with stress. Castiel shushes him, waving a hand at him. Castiel shifts, silhouette moving closer to the door, flinching back when the gym door bangs open. 

The janitor is whistling to themselves, some jaunty tune Dean doesn’t recognize in the slightest. Light floods under the doorway, and a jingling that sounds like keys on a ring being shuffled around. “Can you imagine having to clean at midnight? It sounds awful,” Dean mutters. 

“Shut up,” Castiel insists, pressing a hand over Dean’s mouth. It takes him by surprise and actually does shut him up. He hadn’t realized until then that Castiel is still holding onto his hand, fingers digging in slightly. It’s easy to feel the tension rocketing up Castiel’s arm. Dean has gotten in trouble before, he doesn’t have very high hopes for college or anything, but he knows Castiel’s ambitions are much higher. Getting caught could actually really fuck up his future for him. Dean gives Castiel’s hand a gentle squeeze, the only comforting gesture he can think to give in the moment. It’s hard to tell, but Dean thinks that he feels the pressure of the other’s hand around his ease just slightly. 

They stay frozen, quiet and still in the closet, listening to the janitor puttering around. Dean has no idea what they could be doing out there, what did they clean in the gym? Weren’t the floors already done? What did a midnight janitor do? Those questions are easier to imagine answers to, instead of the others lurking just below. How was Castiel’s skin so soft? What would he do if Dean pulled him just a little bit closer? How fucking ironic would it be to kiss a boy in a literal closet? 

Before Dean can finish swimming through his thoughts, the sound of another door banging open echoes through the room and the janitor’s whistling slowly recedes. “Come on,” Castiel whispers, dropping his hand from Dean’s mouth and cracking the door open. He glances out, scanning the room before he pushes the door open further. “We should make a run for it, back to the window.” Dean just barely has time to nod his head and Castiel is already running, hand still firmly linked with Dean’s and dragging him along with him. 

It’s probably noisier than they need to be, racing out of the gym like this, but now that they’ve tapped into the adrenaline that had been building up over the last hour, Dean doesn’t think he can stop. His legs are pumping under him, feet thudding against the floor. Castiel is  _ giggling _ when they get to the window, the sound nervous and high pitched. It’s ridiculous, and it triggers Dean too, a small laugh bubbling up inside him, turning into a snort when it passes his lip. That just makes Castiel laugh harder, face going red as he shoves at the frame. Finally, the window creaks open and Castiel climbs out, Dean following quickly. He pushes the window shut behind him, leaning back against the brick wall to catch his breath. 

“That was close,” Castiel whispers, glancing at the window. The light shining through illuminates his face, cheeks ruddy, eyes big and bright and blue. Dean wonders what he would do if Dean reached for his hand again. He considers it for a moment, remembering the warmth that flowed through him being linked with Castiel, but it hits a wall in his chest, meeting a paralyzing fear. Castiel is his friend, his best friend. Assuming he was into Dean just because he was gay could fuck all of that up, especially when Dean’s still not even sure what he’s feeling. 

Castiel catches him staring, giving him a small grin as he looks over. Dean’s chest squeezes, heart hammering in his throat. “Race you to the cars?” He doesn’t wait for Castiel to respond, shoving away from the wall and starting to run again. He can hear the other call his name before the sound of footsteps joins his own. There’s a cool breeze raking through Dean’s hair, his cheeks burning before long. The night is quiet and serene around them, the moon shining bright overhead. For a second, Dean can imagine what it would be like if he just kept running. Ran until his legs couldn’t hold him up any longer, until he was so exhausted his mind wouldn’t be able to produce any more thoughts and he could have some peace. 


	11. Chapter 11

The tires crunch over gravel as Gabriel eases the car up the drive. The party is already well underway, music thumping and students spilling out onto the porch. It’s unseasonably warm tonight, still a little too cold to really be standing outside but Castiel suspects the red cups everyone is holding is contributing to their resiliency. 

“Aww, my little brother’s Senior Dump,” Gabriel coos, reaching over to pinch Castiel’s cheek. 

“I still don’t understand why that’s the name. It’s ridiculous.” A wave of anxiety washes over Castiel, making his chest feel tight. Parties aren’t his scene. Crowds and people and drinking, those were all things he just preferred to stay away from. This is a tradition for the seniors, though, and his friends had all insisted that he come. 

“You don’t have to understand, you’re just supposed to go get wasted and have fun.” Gabriel glances at his phone, looking back out the window. “Call me when you’re ready to come home, but I’m not picking you up before midnight.” 

“What if your date goes terribly?” Castiel is procrastinating getting out of the car now, knowing that he’ll be stuck here for the next few hours. 

“Still not picking you up until after midnight. I’m not even answering my phone until after that.” Gabriel pauses, looking thoughtful for a minute. “If I don’t answer after midnight, I might have gotten murdered. Or, you know, gotten  _ murdered _ .” He gives a salacious waggle of his eyebrows, and Castiel makes a face. 

“Okay, okay, enough. Try not to die, please.” Taking another deep breath, Castiel reaches for the door handle. “I’ll see you later.” Gabriel is pulling away as soon as Castiel’s feet are on the ground, poking a hand out the window to wave. 

Nervously, Castiel starts towards the house, running a hand through his hair. He’d gone with a pair of well-worn jeans and some converse he’d found stuffed sideways in the back of his closet. His t-shirt had a crooked band logo on it, but it was covered by the falcon hoodie he definitely wasn’t procrastinating giving back to Dean. 

The music grows exponentially louder as he marches closer to the house. It’s an old farmhouse, rented out for things like weddings and prom. Every year, the seniors pooled the money needed to rent it out for the night and threw a big party the weekend before their last semester started. It’s a little ways removed from anything else, so the music ripping through the air doesn’t bother anyone else, and the rampant underage drinking can go relatively unnoticed. 

Fairy lights hang overhead, strung between the trees surrounding the house. They illuminate a few benches spread out across the lawn, enclosed by a few small hedges. It’s a classic looking structure, front porch wrapping around the sides, framing a symmetrical two-floor design. Approaching it at night, it would have a fairly imposing shadow if it wasn’t for the flashing lights blinking through the windows and the shouts of laughter. Castiel hesitates at the bottom of the stairs up to the porch, tugging his phone from his pocket, biting his lip. He texts his group chat to let them know he’s there, deciding the easiest way to find anyone was to stay here and let them come to him. 

A familiar bob of red hair catches Castiel’s eye, squeezing out between a few girls crowded around the door. “There you are!” Charlie calls, bounding down the steps and grabbing Castiel’s arm. “You’re here, no hiding outside now.” She tugs him up the stairs, back through the crowd of people. The music is so much louder inside, every beat of the bass vibrating through his bones. There’s so many people crammed inside, he didn’t think this many people went to the entire school, let alone the senior class. Then again, it’s the party of the year and it wasn’t exclusive to the seniors, Castiel had just managed to weasel his way out of it every year until now. 

Relief washes over him when Charlie pulls him to a relatively quiet corner where a few of their friends are standing. Dorothy reaches for Charlie as soon as she gets close enough, a water bottle clutched in hand. She had volunteered to be a designated driver for the night, which Castiel found admirable. He wasn’t sure he was going to make it through a few hours of this chaos without a little something to help him along. 

Dean is standing off to the side a little ways, gesturing wildly with his hands as he talks to Benny. Castiel is pretty sure he’s only a junior, but again, it’s not exclusive. There’s an unfamiliar girl tucked under his arm. She’s pretty, dark hair and full lips, and she’s got stars in her eyes as she stares up at Benny, completely oblivious to whatever tale Dean is weaving. “Secret girlfriend,” Charlie shouts when she notices Castiel watching. “Andrea. They’re so cute!” Not one to be outdone, she cozies herself right up to Dorothy’s side, leaning over to say something into her ear. 

Castiel has just enough time to start to feel like a third wheel when someone’s hand descends onto his shoulder. He flinches, laughter loud in his ear. “Calm down, Cassie, I’m just bringing you a drink.” Balthazar holds out a cup, giving Castiel’s shoulder a squeeze. Grateful for a refreshment and something to do with his hands, Castiel accepts it readily. The smell should be enough to warn him when he lifts it to his mouth, but he’s still taken by surprise at the burn the moment the liquid inside touches his tongue. Coughing, he holds the cup away from him, making a face. 

“What is this? Rubbing alcohol?” 

“Vodka! Just to get you started.” Castiel makes a face, looking into the cup again. He’s not one who was ever good with shots and he’s definitely not going to be able to start his night with half a cup of vodka. Luckily, he is rescued from having to say anything when Dean turns and notices he’s there. 

“Cas!” He rushes over, an arm coming around Castiel’s waist to pull him in for a brief hug. “I thought you might have ditched us.” Despite himself, Castiel feels lighter just seeing Dean. “Where were we supposed to sleep then?” 

By some miracle, both of Castiel’s parents were out of town for the weekend. His dad was on some kind of business trip, his mother visiting her sister. Adam and Samandriel were having a sleepover at Dean’s house, and Castiel had offered up his living room to Dean, Balthazar, and Charlie if they needed somewhere to crash after the party. Charlie had graciously denied and Castiel pretended not to see the red on her cheeks when she said she had some ‘plans with Dorothy’ afterwards. 

“I’m here, you don’t have to worry about it,” Castiel replies, grinning. Dean peers into the cup in Castiel’s hand, taking a whiff and wrinkling up his nose. 

“You don’t strike me as the ‘go hard or go home’ type.” Castiel doesn’t have to look to know Balthazar is unhappy with his choice being judged, but he’s really not going to drink what he’s having. 

“It was a gift.” Dean shakes his head, plucking the cup out of his hand. 

“Come on, let’s get you something a little more tolerable.” Without waiting for a response, Dean grabs his hand and starts to lead him through the crowd. Castiel has just enough time to look over his shoulder and see Balthazar frowning after them. 

There’s a room Castiel assumes must’ve been the kitchen when this was just a house. It’s much more industrial looking now, a large bar taking the majority of one corner of the room. There’s not a server there, but groups of students, trading various bottles of liquor. A trash can sits at the end of the bar and Castiel watches two giggling girls pouring something red and sweet smelling into it. 

“You want a shot?” Castiel hadn’t noticed the line of shot glasses at the end of the bar, a plate of limes sitting nearby. 

“No, that’s okay.” Dean already has two in hand and shrugs, throwing one back after the other.

“More for me!” he shouts, leaving the shot glasses and Castiel’s cup of vodka on the counter. He makes his way over to the trash can, grabbing two cups and dunking them in, laughing at the look of disgust on Castiel’s face. “Don’t worry, it’s new.” Castiel takes the cup hesitantly, giving it a little swirl. Dean takes a swig of his without hesitation, and it’s convincing enough for Castiel to try a sip as well. It’s sugary and sweet, with a little bit of a burn after, but much easier to take down than the vodka. 

“Better,” he says, nodding. There’s a bundle of nerves still sitting heavy in his stomach, especially with so many people around them. Dean looks at ease, a big smile, shoulders shimmying along to the beat of the music. It’s something that could intimidate Castiel, remind him of how uncomfortable he is, how he doesn’t fit in. Instead, Castiel finds himself being pulled into Dean’s cloud of positive energy. He tips back a larger mouthful of the drink, happy to be a stupid teenager and let alcohol help him along for one night. 

Pushing back through the crowd is a little less overwhelming this time. Dean has grabbed his hand again, leading him back through. There’s a marked lack of warmth when he lets go as they find their little pod of friends again, but it’s easy enough to push away when Castiel takes another gulp of his drink. 

“Is that what they were mixing in the garbage bin?” Balthazar questions. 

“It’s a new one.” It’s not as convincing coming from Castiel as it had been from Dean, but the other is already engaged in another animated conversation with Benny. 

“That’s still foul.” 

“Not everyone is as refined as you are, Thaz.” A little smile seems to win Balthazar over, the frown tugging at his lips finally dissolving. 

“I suppose a cup of vodka wasn’t particularly refined either, was it?” he admits. Castiel shakes his head, bumping Balthazar’s shoulder lightly. He’s starting to recognize more people walking by. There’s still a lot of people here, but it’s becoming more and more manageable as he spots familiar faces. “You can’t blame me for wanting to encourage you to drink. You  _ never _ come out with us.” 

“I wasn’t going to come tonight either, but I guess I have enough friends to peer pressure me now.” He is having a surprisingly good time, so far. Even though this is still a little on the overwhelming side for him, he’s got a good group around him. 

“It only took us four years.” Balthazar bumps Castiel again, peering into his cup. “Is that any good?” 

“It’s really good. Want to try?” Balthazar gives it another questionable look before he reaches for it, taking a hesitant sip. 

“Ugh, disgusting.” Castiel grins as he takes it back, taking another gulp himself. 

“Well, I like it.” Drinking isn’t something he does often, and he’s not sure exactly how much of the liquid in the cup in front of him is liquor, but he’s already got a warm buzz running up and down his spine.

“You have terrible taste.” Castiel might be offended if he thought Balthazar really meant it, but he just smiles and shrugs. Balthazar tugs his phone out of his pocket, grinning down at the screen. 

“Who’s that? Must be interesting to distract you from the party.” 

“Henri, he texted me on Thursday. I thought he’d dropped off the face of the earth, but he got a new phone for Christmas.” Castiel remembers Balthazar mentioning something about the exchange student he’d been talking to, and something about Charlie trying to hack into his accounts. 

“Is he staying for the spring semester?” Balthazar nods, falling silent as he starts to tap out a reply rapidly, thumbs flying over the screen. Castiel turns his attention back to his cup. Every drink goes down a little easier, as well, until his cup is empty. He adds it to a growing pile on a half wall near them, wondering what poor soul has to clean up after them. 

Another hockey player Castiel only vaguely recognizes is standing with Dean and Benny now. Benny’s let go of the girl next to him - Andrea - and is acting out some kind of maneuver with an imaginary stick in his hands. It looks like it’s going well, until Cole approaches. He’s never done anything to Castiel, personally, but he has a growing distaste for the other, and he’s not a fan of Lisa trailing behind him either. Castiel can see Dean stiffen when he notices the other two. Balthazar is still captivated by his phone, so he doesn’t feel too bad about slipping away, joining the group. 

“Hey, Benny!” Castiel isn’t normally one to interrupt a conversation, but he would hate to see anyone fighting tonight. “Charlie said this is your girlfriend?” Benny lights up, obviously excited to talk about her. 

“Yeah, this is Andrea.” She’s found her way back under Benny’s arm, sticking out the hand not holding a cup to shake Castiel’s.

“Castiel.” Dean notices the interruption, coming to Castiel’s side. He slings his arm over Castiel’s shoulder, and Castiel has to fight not to think about how they’re mirroring Benny and Andrea. “Benny has a lot to say about you.” 

“He’s just a big old teddy bear, isn’t he?” Andrea replies, grinning up at Benny. He’s only a junior, but probably one of the only students who could grow a beard if he wanted to. The stubble he has isn’t enough to cover the flush on his cheeks under all this attention. 

“That’s Cole too,” Lisa interjects, tugging Cole further into the circle. She keeps glancing at Dean out of the corner of her eye, and it makes Castiel’s stomach twist. He can’t tell if he’s jealous or angry or a little bit of both. An uncomfortable silence settles over the group for a moment. 

The beat of the music changes, replaced by a much more aggressive bass line. “Shit, I love this song!” Dean shouts, bouncing on his toes as he turns to Castiel. “Come dance with me!” 

“Oh- I don’t- I don’t really dance.” He doesn’t know why he would expect Dean to listen to that protest, and his point is proven when the other grabs his hands, tugging him away from their group and into the crowd of dancers. 

Dean doesn’t seem to have any shame, hips wiggling, tilting his head back as he starts to sing along. Castiel can hardly hear him over the music, but the joy is clear in Dean’s face. Color floods Castiel’s cheeks when Dean catches him just standing there staring. 

“Look, I’ll show you!” Confused, Castiel takes Dean’s cup as he holds it out, sure his face goes even more red when the other uses the freedom to place his hands on Castiel’s hips. “See, it’s easy.” Dean’s grinning, tugging lightly on Castiel’s hips, trying to guide him into the same wiggle that he’s doing himself. 

“I can’t!” He feels stiff and awkward, especially compared to the fluidity that Dean moves with. Dean’s not necessarily a good dancer, but so much confidence radiates off of him it makes up for any skill he may be lacking. 

“You’re doing great.” Dean’s hands squeeze at Castiel’s hips, sending a bolt of warmth up his sides. Castiel doesn’t know what to do with his hand, eventually letting it land on Dean’s forearms, holding the cup out a little awkwardly to the side. It’s mostly empty, so at least he doesn’t have to worry about spilling it. 

Someone bumps into Castiel from behind, shoving him closer. He’s ready to apologize and step back, but Dean’s arms have snaked around his waist, keeping him there. There’s no avoiding moving with Dean now, the way they’re pressed together. He lets his free hand settle on Dean’s shoulder, grinning unabashedly. It’s clear Dean isn’t judging him, either, and it makes it a little easier to loosen up and just enjoy the moment. The lights flashing around them illuminate Dean’s face from different angles. Every time it draws attention to something new. His high cheekbones, the sharp cut of his jaw, the soft pout of his bottom lip, that freckle right at the corner of his eye that Castiel is borderline obsessed with. 

His heart is about ready to slam out of his chest as Dean starts to lean in. He’s not sure where the other is going until he feels his lips at his ear. “I’m glad you came out tonight.” Dean’s voice sends a puff of warm air against his ear and a shiver down his spine. “I’m glad you’re here.” The only thing Castiel can do is let out a breathless laugh, squeezing Dean’s shoulder. 

“I-I’m glad you’re here too,” he manages to reply before Dean pulls back. He has no right to look that handsome, giving Castiel a toothy grin. There’s a sudden loss of heat as Dean pulls his arms away from his waist, taking his cup back and tipping back the rest of whatever is in it. 

“I’m going to get another drink!” Dean shouts over the music. “You want one?” There’s no way Castiel can raise his voice loud enough to be heard right now, just shaking his head. Dean gives him a thumbs up before he disappears into the crowd. 

Whatever is playing is different than what they’d come out here to dance to. Castiel had lost track of the music, lost track of everything else with Dean so close. His cheeks are hot as he starts to maneuver out of the mass of bodies. Dancing by himself doesn’t have any appeal. 

Balthazar is leaning against the wall, arms folded across his chest. He stares at Castiel as he approaches, lips set in a thin line. “I see you haven’t taken my advice.” Castiel’s eyebrows draw together, face burning even hotter. 

“What?” His head is still spinning from his little dance with Dean and the buzz that his drink has given him. 

“You are all over Dean.” 

“I’m not.” Castiel’s arms come over his chest as well, frowning at Balthazar. His face feels like it’s on fire. 

“You are. I could see you out there, you know. I’d have to be blind not to see it.” 

“I don’t see why this is such a big deal. He’s my friend, Balthazar. If you’re jealous that we danced together you can just say it or ask me to dance.” The defensive tone that Castiel knows his voice is taking isn’t helping his case in the least, but he can’t help it. He’s having a good time and the last thing he wants to do tonight is ruin it with overthinking. He can do that himself later. 

“You really think so highly of yourself, Castiel? I’m not jealous, I’m trying to stop you from being stupid.” There’s a great amount of defensiveness in Balthazar’s voice as well, and it makes something twist uncomfortably inside of Castiel. His mind is having a hard time connecting why Balthazar would be jealous, even though he’s the one who spit it out. 

“Being stupid? I didn’t realize you were so far above me.” The music muffles most of their conversation, but their voices are rising enough that a few people around them have glanced back at them. 

“You’re being ridiculous, Castiel. We’ve been friends for years and you’re letting this stupid little crush destroy it.” 

“You are! I’m not the one with the problem! Did you think you’d be the only person I’d ever get along with? What the hell was I supposed to do when you go off to your fancy school next year?” At least the noise around them covers up the way that Castiel’s voice is shaking. He can’t tell if he’s more embarrassed at being called out or angry that Balthazar is turning this into a fight right now. 

“Yes, because I was just going to abandon you and pretend that you never existed. You’ve got a replacement lined up and ready to go, don’t you? We might as well just cut off now. I’ll find somewhere else to sleep tonight so you can focus on your new friend.” 

“Balthazar!” The other ignores Castiel’s cry, turning on heel and stomping off. Castiel stares after him, a little dumbstruck, his chest tight. Several people are staring, one of the girls standing closest leaning over to whisper in her friend’s ear. Luckily, it only takes pushing by a few people to get away from everyone who heard the fight. It’s kind of suffocating with everyone pressed around him, but he remembers the area around the bar being a little more clear. 

The first person he sees when he breaks through the crowd is Dean, leaning back against the bar and watching Benny line up a row of shots. He starts towards them, and Dean looks at him, grinning. “Need a drink?” 

“Yeah.” Castiel hesitates, surveying the little glasses on the counter. “I think I need a shot.” Why not? He doesn’t want to think about the argument with Balthazar or how he  _ really _ feels about Dean or what the hell he’s doing after this year. Just one night to turn his brain off and have fun. Benny adds another glass to the line. 

“Hell yeah, you’re getting into the spirit now!” Dean claps a hand on Castiel’s shoulder, giving it a squeeze. He lets the wave of warmth that always comes with Dean’s touch wash over him. Might as well indulge in that tonight, too. He takes the glass as Dean hands it over, tilting it back quickly. It burns all the way down his throat, and Dean is grinning when he picks his head back up. “You don’t do a lot of shots, do you?” 

“Shut up.” Castiel shakes his head, coughing as he gets another whiff of the alcohol, which just makes Dean’s smile that much wider. “Let’s see you take it then,” he demands, folding his arms over his chest. Of course, he already saw Dean down two shots earlier like it was nothing, but it’s a fine excuse to stare while he picks up the glass and tips it back. 

“See? Easy.” Dean sets the glass back down on the counter, looking back into the other room. “Wanna dance again?” he offers, holding out a hand. Castiel doesn’t hesitate this time, nodding and taking Dean’s hand, letting him pull him back into the crowd. The shot works its way into his system fast and he finds it much easier to relax this time. Benny and Andrea follow them and they make their own little bubble, laughing and shouting along with the songs. They don’t get as cozy this time, but Castiel doesn’t mind. These people are his friends too, and he can have a good time with them. Fuck Balthazar. 

Charlie and Dorothy find them a few songs later, expanding their circle. In the beat between songs Dean leans over to Charlie and says something, and it must be about the smudge of lipstick on her neck because her hand flies up a moment later, covering it up. Laughing, Dean looks across the circle at Dorothy, waggling his eyebrows. It’s probably not that funny, but Castiel finds himself laughing too, and it spreads around the group. It must help ease Charlie’s embarrassment because a few moments later she’s laughing so hard she’s tipped into Dean’s side, and Benny is wiping tears from his eyes. 

There’s something about the pounding music and flashing lights that makes time feel unreal. Castiel knows that time is passing. They’re rolling through songs, but he feels like he could do this all night. The crowd around them morphs, new people every time Castiel looks over his shoulder. It’s hot, a drip of sweat rolling down Castiel’s neck confirming the fact, but he just wipes it away and keeps jumping along to the music with everyone else. 

At one point, Benny disappears and returns with his hands full of shots. Castiel doesn’t stall this time. It’s still vile, but it doesn’t burn quite as bad going down. In a matter of minutes his limbs feel heavier, head a little fuzzy, and it’s nice. He isn’t entirely sure when Dean’s arm ends up around his waist again, but when Castiel notices he presses into his side, wrapping an arm around him in return. Charlie shouts something at them, but it gets lost in the crescendo of the song. 

Really, it’s too hot to be this close to another person, but Castiel isn’t interested in moving. They’re just kind of swaying now, anyway, hard to do much else holding onto each other. Benny seems to be their bartender, coming in and out of the group with shots, and even making sure to bring back a new bottle of water for Dorothy. Castiel is happy where he’s at, just intoxicated enough that the constant stream of thoughts that’s usually running through his mind is blissfully quiet. Dean takes every one, and any extras left from anyone else in the group who turned it down. 

It’s not a surprise when Dean leans over and tells Castiel he needs to pee. He doesn’t really want to stop touching Dean, but he lets him go, watching him stagger off through the crowd. Time is still moving in a weird, syrupy way, but a few songs pass and he notices Dean hasn’t come back. He turns to tell Charlie, but she’s disappeared as well, and Benny and Andrea are a little too occupied with each other to notice. It’s not as fun dancing by himself, anyway. He elbows his way out of the room, trying to remember where the hell the bathrooms even were. 

After a bit of wandering, Castiel finds the bathroom. Well, more accurately, he finds Dean sitting on the floor by the door, head hanging between his knees. Being out of the mass of bodies, Castiel would expect it to be noticeably cooler, but it just feels stuffy and hot here as well. Back against the wall, he slides down next to Dean. 

“You alright?” His voice is too loud here, he didn’t realize how easy it was to get accustomed to yelling over the music. 

“Yeah, ‘m just… drunk.” Dean laughs, picking his head up. “Thought I was gonna hurl.” 

“You want to go outside? Get some fresh air?” Dean nods and Castiel stands back up and holds out his hands for the other. Wobbling, Dean pulls himself up, draping his arm over Castiel’s shoulder. 

“Lead the way, babe.” Castiel’s heart does a somersault in his chest, but he’s sure it’s just a slip of the tongue. The very, very drunk tongue. Dean leans heavy into Castiel’s side, stumbling over his feet every few steps. 

Crisp, cool air hits Castiel as he steps outside. It’s amazingly refreshing, waking him up a little. The benches he’d spotted earlier seem like a good place to head, considering Dean seems to be having a hard time staying upright. Castiel leads him towards one, settling down next to him. Dean lets his head flop back as he leans back, closing his eyes. 

“Y’know, you’re really nice,” he mutters. Nice, that seems to be his go-to word. It could be worse, but Castiel can’t help thinking it could also be better. 

“I was ready to get out of there anyway, you’re just lucky that I came back for you.” The fairy lights are surprisingly good at their job, casting a soft glow over them. 

“No.” With what looks like great effort, Dean picks his head up again, looking over at Castiel. His eyes are bloodshot, red creeping in from the corners, but for some reason it just makes the emerald green of his irises that much more brilliant. “You are nice. You’re nice to me, and you’re nice to Sammy, and you’re nice to your friends.” Balthazar’s angry face flashes across Castiel’s memory and he looks away guiltily. 

“I’m not, but thank you.” 

“You  _ are _ .” Dean insists, shifting next to him. “The nicest person I know. You could win a trophy in niceness.” 

“I’ll keep my eye out for the next niceness competition.”

“‘Yeah, you should. You’d win. Then you’d probably give the trophy to someone else ‘cause they looked sad or some shit. And they’d be like ‘whoa, give that guy another trophy’ and you’d just keep giving them away.” Dean gestures widely in front of them, hand over hand like he’s cycling trophies through them himself. 

“What if I tricked everyone and kept all the trophies for myself?” Dean is always expressive, but the intoxication amplifies the effect. Every thought seems to play across Dean’s face before he speaks. His eyebrows furrow, corners of his lips pulling down into a pout. 

“You wouldn’t, though. And if you did it’d be ‘cause you deserve them. Cause you’re nice. And sweet. And you’re smart, and funny. Who else loves bees that much? I never met anyone who even likes bees before.” Castiel rolls his eyes. 

“Are you complimenting me or making fun of me?” he teases, surprised by the serious expression that comes over Dean’s face when he looks back up at him. 

“I’m tryin’ to say that you’re... Fuck, words are so fucking hard. You’re like… if you look up at the sky in the middle of nowhere, and all the stars are up there, but there’s always one that’s just a little bit shinier, that you can’t stop looking at. There’s just something there and it makes you feel special that you got to see it but it’s sad ‘cause you don’t know if you ever will again.” Castiel’s heartbeat catches in his throat, choking him. “You’re my best friend, dude. But…” Just as quickly as Castiel had gotten his hopes up, they plummet. 

“You’re my best friend too, Dean.” Castiel isn’t sure he wants to hear what’s going to come after the ‘but’ and maybe he can just steer Dean away from it. 

“I can’t stand it,” Dean mutters, shaking his head. Swallowing thickly, Castiel looks away. Is he getting friend-dumped by Dean now too? He should have had more self control, not let things get weird in the dancing. Did somebody tell Dean about his crush? Was it that obvious? Had he heard about the fight with Balthazar? A gentle hand on his cheek guides him to look back to Dean. His expression is suddenly unreadable, eyes flickering as he looks over Castiel’s face. 

“Dean, what are you-” Plump lips cut him off, stealing the air from Castiel’s lungs. He’d imagined what they’d felt like so many times, but nothing could compare to real life. Dean is kissing him. Stunned, Castiel’s having a hard time remembering what he’s supposed to do, how he’s expected to get any of his muscles to listen to him and coordinate kissing back when it feels like he’s just touched a live wire. 

Dean pulls away just enough to take a breath before he surges back in, kissing Castiel harder than before. The taste of tequila is strong on his lips and heavy in his breath, and it activates something deep in Castiel’s brain that has been dormant for most of the night. Dean is drunk. Really, really drunk. No matter how badly Castiel wants to pull him closer, he knows in his core that he can’t. Fighting every urge telling him otherwise, Castiel lifts his hands to Dean’s chest and gently pushes him back. Expression pinched tight in confusion, Dean frowns at him. 

“I can’t. Not right now. You’re drunk, it wouldn’t be right.” He doesn’t even know if Dean is actually into guys or if he’d just gotten drunk and lonely watching their friends pair off for the night. It breaks his heart to see Dean’s face crumple, hand jerking back from Castiel’s cheek. 

“Oh my god, I’m such a fucking idiot.” 

“You’re not, Dean, I just think we need to talk about this when-” Castiel’s sentence feels unimportant when Dean suddenly twists, hunching over and vomiting on the ground in front of them. It reeks of alcohol, some of it splattering onto Castiel’s shoes. At least he isn’t wearing his loafers. He lays a hand on Dean’s back, rubbing in circles while he continues to spit at the ground. 

Castiel waits until he thinks Dean is done, leaning down a little to look at his face. “You okay?” he asks softly. Dean shakes his head and immediately groans, reaching up to clutch at his hair. 

“Spinning.” He squeezes his eyes shut, making another pained noise. 

“I’m gonna get you some water and then we’ll call Gabriel, okay?” He takes the grunt he gets in return as an affirmative, getting up and heading towards the house. He’s a little worried about leaving Dean alone outside in his state, but when he comes back the other is in the same place, still cradling his head in his hands. The first sip of water Castiel coaxes him into drinking comes right back up. It’s well past midnight, closer to two in the morning, but Gabriel sounds wide awake when he answers the phone. 

“Gabe’s going to be here in a few minutes. You want to try some more water?” Dean’s vocabulary has been reduced to grunting and nodding, which he does as he reaches for the bottle again. Castiel counts it as a success when Gabriel texts that he’s there and it’s still in Dean’s stomach. 

Castiel has to enlist in Gabriel’s help to get Dean to the car, being half-carried between them. He keeps muttering an apology under his breath, along with a string of something completely unintelligible. It’s easier just to climb into the backseat with him, letting Dean collapse against his side, head lolling against Castiel’s shoulder. 

“I think he out-partied you, Cas,” Gabriel comments, looking at them in the rearview mirror. 

“That’s not a surprise,” Castiel replies dryly. He’d had more drinks than he expected tonight, but after the kiss, the warm buzz of the alcohol is gone, making his eyelids feel heavy and itchy. 

“Next time I want to be invited. I bet we could get into some real trouble that way. I do have my own place now, and Luke would buy us booze.” 

“I can’t even think about drinking any more right now,” Castiel admits, wrinkling up his nose. He wasn’t even the one who’d gotten sick, but the very idea of anything else even remotely tasting of alcohol makes his stomach churn. 

“Fine, but we’ll revisit tomorrow. After hangover breakfast, of course. Culinary school is turning out to be good for something after all!” Castiel offers a tired smile, glancing over at Dean. He’s fully asleep already, they’re not even out to the main road yet. His lips are hanging open just slightly, and something burns in Castiel remembering how good it was to feel them pressed against his own. When he looks up, Gabriel is smirking at him in the mirror. Castiel doesn’t have the energy to be embarrassed about being caught, dropping his head back against the seat. 

“How was your date?” The question has the desired effect. Gabriel launches into story mode without any more prompting. Castiel genuinely does care, but the sound of his brother’s voice quickly fades into the background when Castiel lets his eyes fall closed. He spends the rest of the ride half-asleep, only aware of Dean’s warm breath tickling his neck. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here's an early update because I'm losing my entire mind right now!!!!!!!


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw: some violence, use of a slur

Something is hitting Dean in the head, over and over again. Only thing is, when he reaches up, he can’t find anything. It isn’t until he cracks his eyes open that he realizes the pounding is coming from inside. The room swims in front of him, unfamiliar. The little bit of light coming in through the window is too much and he groans, rolling onto his stomach. He can just make out a tiny set of wings on the sheets he’s pressing his face into. They’re attached to a tiny, bulbous bee that Dean knows that he’s seen before. The pounding in his head slows him down, but eventually his mind puts it together. These are Castiel’s sheets. 

Sitting up makes the pounding in his head even worse. This is definitely Castiel’s room, but Dean’s alone in the bed. He knows that they’d planned for him to stay over, but he thought someone else was supposed to as well. There are no memories of coming here, or anything Cas might have told him about a change in plans. 

He can remember showing up, finding his friends, and starting to drink. He remembers dancing with Cas, how the other had let him grab onto him, how he kept staring up at Dean like the sun was shining out of his ass. How badly he wanted to just keep Castiel there all night and how much he didn’t know what the hell to do with that feeling. The last clear memory he has is standing with Benny at the bar, watching him pour shots and snagging a few before he was even done. Everything goes fuzzy after that. 

He glances around the room, spotting a pile of blankets on the floor. Why is he on the bed when someone else had to sleep on the floor? Weren’t they supposed to be sharing the living room? He searches his memory again, but it’s useless, nothing more than flashing lights and the taste of alcohol. He sighs, the puff of air tasting absolutely rancid. The pounding in his head is starting to subside a little, but it just opens his senses to the way everything else is aching. His throat is dry and his lips keep trying to stick together, so he decides the first order of business needs to be some water. 

For what a mess he feels like, his boots are sitting surprisingly neatly next to the bed. The laces have even been tucked in, and he frowns. That’s definitely not something he’d do even when he was sober, but maybe drunk Dean had a few surprises up his sleeve. Shaking his head, he shuffles out the door, squinting while he tries to adjust to the light. 

Coming down the hall and to the stairs, Dean is hit with the smell of bacon, and he can hear someone moving around in the kitchen. His stomach gives a twist, but some breakfast sounds too awesome to pass up. Gabriel is standing at the stove, looking very official with an apron tied around him. He’s humming, glancing over his shoulder at Castiel who’s leaning against the island, watching his brother. “Look, this one I swear I’m going to get.” 

“You’ve said that about the last three, I’m not sure that I believe you.” Gabriel scoffs and turns back to the pan, gripping the handle with both hands. With a flick of his wrist he sends the pancake into the air, landing squarely in the pan again. 

“Ha! See, I told you I can do it!” Gabriel turns to grab a piece of bacon from the plate on the island, grinning when he sees Dean rounding the corner. “Well, looks like you’ve decided to join the land of the living once again.” 

“Is it that bad?” Dean groans, reaching up to rub at his face. 

“Absolutely. That’s why we put you upstairs, we couldn’t have you throwing up on the living room rug, they’d kick Castiel out next.” Gabriel ignores the look Castiel gives him and turns back to the stove, returning to humming. 

“I thought I might’ve thrown up, my mouth tastes like shit.” The handful of times he’s been here is enough to know there’s a stock of water bottles in the fridge. He grabs one, making his way over to the island next to Castiel, copying his pose with his elbows leaned against the countertop. 

“You were wasted. I had to carry you back to the car, and Cas was barely even drunk. You’re not being a bad enough influence, Dean, I was counting on you.” Gabriel turns back towards them again, slipping the pancake onto a plate. 

“Hey, one of us had to be able to get us home.” He nudges Castiel with his elbow, giving him a little grin. “Where’d I throw up anyway? Do I owe you a car wash, Gabe?” 

“You don’t remember?” Castiel questions, a strange expression on his face as he looks at Dean. 

“Nah, I don’t remember much of anything after Benny started pouring us shots.” It’s a little embarrassing to admit, and the first drink of water he takes feels too cold and hits his stomach hard.

“Oh.” Castiel nods and looks down at his hands, biting his lip. 

“Was it really bad? Hey, I can help clean up if it’s in the house or whatever.” He’s straining to remember now, he’d feel pretty bad if it happened somewhere in the house and it got Castiel in any trouble. 

“No. Well, you kind of threw up on my shoes, but we were outside, so it’s not a big deal.” Castiel doesn’t look at him as he says this, drumming his fingers slowly against the counter. It’s weird, he’s not usually very fidgety, especially when they’re hanging out somewhere that he’s comfortable, like his own house. 

“It’s not cool, either. I can definitely get you some replacements.” 

“They’re not ones I wear much anyway. It’s fine.” Castiel still doesn’t look at him, and Dean’s stomach clenches. He tries to soothe it with a drink of water, but it doesn’t work very well. At least it gives him something to do with his hands. He waits for Castiel to volunteer more information, growing increasingly nervous when his friend stays silent. 

“So, uh… Did I do anything else embarrassing?” Dean finally questions. Not a good look, and he’s starting to regret going so hard last night. He’s blacked out a handful of times before, but usually the only reports he gets back is he wouldn’t share the microphone at karaoke or he tried to order 55 burgers at McDonalds. Stupid shit, but nothing bad. 

“Nope.” Castiel presses his lips together, finally breaking his staring contest with his hands to look at Dean, but it’s brief. He nudges Castiel with his elbow again, surprised that the other practically flinches when he does. 

“Hey, are you alright?” Dean asks a little more softly, trying to catch Castiel’s eye again. Maybe something else happened at the party that Dean can’t remember, something that was pulling Cas down this morning. 

“Yeah, sorry, I’m just… I guess I’m pretty hungover too.” He lets out a weak laugh, running his hand over his face before abruptly pushing himself away from the island. “I need the bathroom,” he mutters, his footsteps soon receding up the stairs. 

“Don’t worry about him,” Gabriel announces, turning back around to add another pancake to the plate. “This might be the first real hangover he’s ever had. And gets kind of weird when he’s sick.” Dean feels a little bit better hearing this. Gabriel would know, he’s lived with Castiel his whole life. 

“Weird, huh?” Dean snags a piece of bacon as Gabriel turns back to the stove. The first bite is a burst of flavor that is almost too much, but it’s damned good, and this time the twist in his stomach is accompanied by a hungry growl. 

“Well, weirder,” Gabriel amends. “Like… last year, he got this cold, right? And it was crappy and it sucked, but he just locked himself in his room for three days straight. I kept taking him water and food because I didn’t want him to die up there. Every time you’d go in there he’d have all the lights turned off and be under four or five blankets with a whole box of tissues next to him, sniffling and just looking pathetic. You know how he gets, his big sad pouty eyes.” 

“Maybe it’s a brother thing, Sam’s really good at those too.” He’s been able to get what he wanted with a single look since he was a toddler. It’s not exactly the same as Castiel’s look, though. Sam knows what he’s doing and uses it. Castiel just looks like he has so much emotion that it’s going to burst out of him at any moment. 

“Probably a brother thing,” Gabriel agrees, flipping over another pancake, cursing quietly when it catches on the edge of the pan, nudging it in gently with the spatula. “Oh, this was crazy! When Cas was eight he broke his arm falling out of a tree. He didn’t talk to anyone for a week, he’d just sit there and stare at his cast. It freaked my parents out so much they were looking into neurologists, they thought he might have hit his head when he fell too. A few days later he just started talking again and acted like nothing had happened. He gets himself stuck up in his head sometimes, I think.” 

It’s the most candidly Dean’s ever heard Gabriel talk about his brother. It makes him smile, just thinking about how Castiel hasn’t really changed much in that regard. He’ll spend an entire class just staring out the window. When he answers the phone, he usually picks up like they’re mid-conversation already. Sometimes when they’re hanging out in a group, someone will say something that catches Castiel’s attention and Dean can practically see him thinking it over. 

“Point is, don’t take offense. He was in pretty good spirits when I picked you two up last night, I’m sure it’s nothing.” 

“Well, I’m betting some kick-ass breakfast perks him up,” Dean comments. Gabriel turns just in time to see him reaching for another piece of bacon, one already hanging out of his mouth. Gabriel smacks his arm lightly, shaking his head.

“Not if you eat all the bacon. Save some for the rest of us.” The warning is not enough, apparently, because Gabriel takes the plate back over to the counter near the stove.

“It’s really good bacon though.” It is, Dean’s not lying. He knows that Gabriel has been working hard at school, he sees the pictures he posts at two in the morning with captions about studying. It’s harder than Dean ever works, and it tastes like it’s paying off. Gabriel doesn’t respond, he just starts humming again. Dean nurses his water while Gabriel finishes off the pancakes, already feeling a little better up and with something in his stomach. 

Gabriel is getting out plates and putting on a pot of coffee when Castiel comes back down the stairs. The smile he gives Dean this time feels a little more authentic, and after the chat with Gabriel, Dean isn’t so worried. A few minutes later, they’re settled at the table, each with a plate of food and a cup of coffee. The pancakes are amazing, light and fluffy and full of sweet flavor. The fresh whipped cream Gabriel made gets him some extra brownie points in Dean’s book. 

“We might head out kind of early, to take you home and pick up Samandriel,” Castiel says softly after a moment. Dean’s been devouring his food but Castiel’s plate looks like it’s mostly just been pushed around. “I’m going to meet with Balthazar for lunch.” 

“Sounds good to me, I think I need a good shower and a nap anyway,” Dean admits. He’s still in his clothes from last night, wrinkled and stiff, and he’s pretty sure that he could sleep the rest of the day away. “Unless you want some extra company for lunch.” 

“No.” The answer is quick and sharp, and Dean raises an eyebrow. “Sorry, I just… I got in a fight with him last night. I’m kind of surprised that he’s even agreeing to meet with me at all.” Castiel ducks his head, staring down at his plate. 

“Oh, shit, yeah, sounds like you don’t need anyone else messing around in there.” Again, Dean racks his memory, trying to place when a fight would’ve happened, but he comes up empty again. He feels a pang of guilt, knowing that whatever state he was in last night he probably wasn’t being very perceptive. Maybe that is contributing to the funk Castiel seems to be in this morning, and Dean can’t blame him for that. 

Breakfast is good, and Castiel seems to lighten up a little. The food definitely helps settle Dean’s stomach, and the pounding in his head has faded into more of an ache. What is frustrating him is something dancing at the back of his mind, buried in his fuzzy memories. It feels like something that’s important, but he has no idea what it is. He tries his best to shake it off and makes a mental note to watch what he’s drinking a little bit better next time. 

If it was important, Castiel would have told him. 

***

The first day of his last semester feels surreal. Dean didn’t think he’d ever get this far, honestly. Some part of him always assumed that he’d just drop out, or he’d fail so many classes that he wouldn’t need to, they’d just kick him out. His grades were the best they’d ever been in the fall, and the guidance counselor had been impressed with his essay, despite the fact he’d turned it in at the last second. 

Whatever had been bothering Castiel after the party seemed to have dissipated. He was sitting with Balthazar when Dean walked into his first class, so he assumed that they’d worked out whatever they’d needed to. Dean was sure he was just being paranoid, but some part of him felt like Castiel never quite met his eyes. He tried to write it off as the first class being too early and Castiel being tired, but during study hall it was the same, and he didn’t even look at Dean over lunch. 

Dean can’t shake the feeling that something else happened at the party. Something that’s making Castiel shy away from him. It bothers him through the day, but the flood of information from all their classes, deadlines and college letters and scholarships, it all helped to distract him a little.

Hockey might have been the thing he missed most over break. He’d gotten spoiled at Bobby’s, usually wasting away the entirety of his winter break out on the pond. There wasn’t a pond here, and the one time he’d gone to the arena just hadn’t felt the same. He couldn’t capture the reckless speed and freedom he loved when he was swerving around preteen girls giggling and wobbling on their skates. The last teacher had let them out a little early, and Dean had headed straight to the locker room, eager to get out on the ice again. 

It’s quiet as he pulls his locker open and starts to change. In a few minutes, it’s going to be chaos, boys shouting over each other, lockers slamming and inevitably a puck that shouldn’t be out getting thrown across the room at some point. He’s happy to bask in the serenity of the moment, taking his time getting into gear. 

It’s not long before he hears the creak of the locker room door. It’s still not time yet, but one of the other classes probably got out early as well. It’s disappointing when Cole appears next to him a moment later. Maybe he wouldn’t say anything and they could just ignore each other for a few minutes. He still doesn’t know what the hell Cole’s problem is, just that he definitely has one, and for some reason he despises Dean. 

“Had to get in early to make sure you got the best spot for the show, huh Winchester?” Well, the not talking plan has already fallen through. 

“Just got out of class early.” Dean shrugs his shoulders, doing his best to keep an impassive expression on his face. 

“That’s a fine excuse, but you really should give everyone else a little bit of warning. It’s not really fair that they don’t know there’s a pervert in here.” Cole is standing too close to his side, and Dean has no fucking clue what he’s talking about, but it’s already doing an unfortunately good job of getting under his skin. He grabs the door of his locker, trying to steady himself. 

“I don’t think anyone else has a problem with me, so no warning needed.” Cole scoffs, leaning against the locker next to Dean’s with his arms folded over his chest. 

“You just want to keep sneaking glances at everyone’s dicks, don’t you? Easier when they don’t know about it.” 

“What the fuck are you talking about, Cole?” The few minutes that had promised a soft silence feel like they’re stretching on forever now. 

“Maybe this will refresh your memory.” Cole pulls out his phone, holding it up in front of Dean’s face. He can’t tell what it is at first, a dark, shaky video. There’s a smudge at the bottom of the screen with strange dots of lights overhead, but then it zooms in. Dean can start to make out two figures, sitting close together on a bench. The camera goes in and out of focus for a moment, but when it clears he can see who it is, and it’s just in time to catch him leaning in and kissing Castiel. Dean’s stomach drops, an unpleasant spark pulsing through him. 

It clearly catches the next moment as well. Castiel’s hands on Dean’s chest, pushing him away. Dean feels like he’s been punched in the gut, struggling to pull in his next breath. That’s why Cas had been acting so distant, why he couldn’t even look at Dean the next morning. If he didn’t say anything about it, he wouldn’t have to reject Dean again. Let them both off the hook. 

“Looks like you’re striking out with the boys and the girls, aren’t you?” Cole’s voice is grating next to Dean’s head, which is still swirling with what he just saw. “You know, I’m sure the rest of the team would like to see this too. Just so they know what kind of weirdo they’re playing with.” 

“Don’t.” Dean hates how scratchy his voice comes out. He’s still gripping the door of his locker, holding so tightly now that he can feel it cutting into his hand. It doesn’t matter what people think of him, but Castiel doesn’t need to get drug into anything. 

“Why? Afraid people are going to find out that you’re a fag?” Cole is smirking, glancing down at the video again and shaking his head. He moves to step away, but Dean turns, smacking the phone out of his hand. It clatters to the floor and both of them stare down at it for a second. It’s not long enough to put together a logical thought, Dean just acts, bringing the heel of his boot down hard. The screen shatters, light blinking out. 

A tense silence settles between them, Cole’s face twisted with anger as he stares down at his broken phone. There’s a vein poking out in his forehead, and Dean can see when he clenches his jaw, muscles moving along his cheek. “You’re going to regret doing that.” Cole lifts his gaze to Dean, staring hard. Dean’s struggling to hold his ground, hands shaking at his sides as his discomfort turns into an angry energy coursing through him. 

“Next time maybe you’ll mind your own fucking business,” Dean spits. His face feels hot, and there are tears pricking at his eyes that he absolutely refuses to let get any further. Not right now, not in front of Cole. 

“What? Are you afraid people are going to find out that you’re such a spaz that even the most pathetic little gay boy in the school doesn’t like you? Didn’t know anyone could be more of a loser than him, but you sure are trying to win, aren’t you?” Cole sneers. Something inside Dean snaps, and the next thing he knows, his fist is slamming into Cole’s cheek. Cole stumbles back a step, but it doesn’t slow him down much, swinging at Dean’s face in return. 

Spots swim in front of Dean’s eyes, and Cole uses this to his advantage, shoving at his shoulders. The next blow hits Dean right in the stomach, knocking the air out of his lungs and sending him to his knees. A sharp pain shoots through his scalp as Cole grabs his hair, but it’s nothing compared to the blinding burst that blossoms across his vision as Cole brings his knee up into Dean’s face. 

Something warm trickles down across his lip, and Dean has just enough time to wonder if his nose is broken before Cole’s trying to repeat the same trick. Dean’s hands fly up, finding Cole’s hips and pushing as hard as he can. Off balance, Cole falls onto his back, but he’s quick to push himself up, swinging wildly at Dean. 

It’s hard to keep track of the blows. Dean’s stomach aches where Cole had pummeled a few times in a row, and his hand is throbbing after one punch had missed him and he’d hit the floor instead. It feels like it’s never going to end, a flurry of pain and rage, until suddenly someone’s arms come around Dean’s chest, pulling him back. Someone is grabbing Cole, too, but he’s still flailing, face ruby red. 

“Alright, alright, let’s calm down over here, brother.” Benny squeezes his arms around Dean as he tries to twist out of the other’s grasp. A few of the other team members are circled around Cole. He’s shouting something, but Dean’s ears are ringing so loudly he can’t understand it. Everybody else is crowded into the small space between the door and the lockers. They’re quick to part, making room for Coach Mills to push into the room.

A stormy silence falls over the locker room as she looks between Dean and Cole. Dean’s nose is still bleeding. He expects to feel some satisfaction at the swelling around Cole’s eye, but he just feels hollow instead. When Coach Mills finally speaks, her voice is eerily level. “I’ve never been more disappointed in two members of my team. You two can go home, and tomorrow we’ll have a discussion about whether you will be returning or not.” 

“This is bullshit, he’s the one who-”

“One more word, Trenton, and we’ll go ahead and take this to the principal. An expulsion isn’t going to look too good on your applications.” It shuts him up, leaving the room cloaked in silence once more. Coach Mills looks between them again, holding Dean’s gaze for a moment. The disappointment in her expression is palpable, exemplified by the heavy sigh and shake of her head. “Everyone else, get changed. You’re on the ice in five or all we’re doing today is running drills.” The group still huddled at the door is quick to part once again as she turns and stalks out of the room. 

Benny’s grip around Dean finally eases. He’d been hoping that might make it a little more comfortable to breathe, but the terrible clenching feeling in his chest isn’t from being held. Dean steps away from the other, face burning with shame. He’s quick to grab his bag and swing it over his shoulder, out of the room before anyone can say anything to him. 

A few people in the hall look at Dean as he passes by, murmurs chasing him out the door, but he doesn’t care. Somehow he has enough presence of mind to pull his t-shirt up over his face, staunching the flow of blood for now. He gets to the car, throws his bag in the back, and climbs in. Sitting still for a moment, emotion slams into him, feeling like a stab in the chest. 

He kissed Cas. And then Cas pushed him away. He’s going to get kicked off the hockey team. Any fleeting dreams he had of actually making it to college are draining away. Cas pushed him away and wouldn’t even tell him that it had happened. He just lost his best friend, the one thing he’s good at, and his future in the space of ten minutes.

It’s too much all at once. He keeps flipping back and forth between feeling empty and numb and so full of feeling that he could explode. As he starts the drive home, the physical pain starts to creep in as well. He thinks his nose has stopped bleeding, but it’s hard to tell beyond the feeling of some of it itchy and dried on his lip. There’s a deep throbbing in his side, he’s sure there’s going to be one hell of a bruise. 

Dean realizes too late he probably should’ve made more of an effort to clean up before he went in the house. He’s already half through the door when Kate sees him, gasping. “What on earth happened?!” There is probably some sort of story he could come up with, but his mind is blank, so he has to go with the truth. 

“Got in a fight.” He starts towards the stairs, but Kate interrupts him, frowning. 

“I can see that. What’s going on?” She tries to look Dean in the face, but he keeps looking away. He can’t handle anything else right now, he just wants to go upstairs, climb into bed, and never get out. There’s pressure building in his chest, the last hour playing over and over again in his head, layering on itself until it’s absolute chaos.“I’m worried about you.” 

“I don’t see why. You’re not my mom.” It feels too harsh the moment it slips from Dean’s lips, but he’ll just add that to the list of mistakes he’s made today. He can see the hurt dance across Kate’s expression, but her resolve hardens quickly. 

“You’re right, I’m not your mom, and you’re not my son. But that doesn’t matter. I care about you, and I care about Sam, and I know you care about me and Adam. I’ll still be right here no matter how hard you try to push me away.” It’s too much, too sincere, and the dam holding back the tears in Dean’s eyes finally breaks. He lets his bag slip to the floor, accepting the warm hug Kate envelopes him in. She lets him stay there, sobbing against her shoulder, rubbing small circles on his back. It reminds him of his mom, the few memories he has with her, the way she used to pick him up and hug him just like this, soothing his little toddler worries away. 

Sniffling loudly, Dean picks his head up. A metallic, bitter taste hits the back of his throat, and he realizes he’s left a little bit of blood on the shoulder of Kate’s shirt. “Sorry,” he croaks, reaching up to wipe at his eyes. “I’m sorry, I just…” 

“We don’t have to talk about it right now.” She reaches out, a gentle touch to the side of Dean’s nose. “Let’s go get you cleaned up. You’re lucky I’m a nurse, it saves a trip to the ER.” She starts up the stairs, and Dean briefly considers just turning and walking back out the door, but after a moment he follows. 

An hour later, Dean finally gets to his bed. His nose is packed with gauze that makes it hard to breathe, and the more subtle aches resulting from the fight are getting louder and louder by the minute. It’s a relief to climb into the bed and stretch out, laying on his back and staring up at the ceiling. A little distance has cleared his head, and he reconsiders everything that happened. 

Coach Mills wouldn’t really kick him out. If she was going to, she would have done it right then and there. She didn’t turn them in to get in official trouble, either, and he knows he’s very lucky there. The tenuous hope he holds out for his future feels thinner than ever, but it’s a little less dire than before. He should probably feel worse about fighting, but Cole has been asking for it for ages. He takes a little comfort in knowing he at least stopped Castiel from being embarrassed by the video. 

One kiss, that’s all he was going to get with Castiel. The worst part is, he can’t even remember it. The only thing he has to think back on is a crummy video that someone else had. He doesn’t know how it felt, or what Castiel said, but he has to assume that it was a no. He’d seen it, Castiel pushing him back. It’s an image that makes his heart feel like it’s actually being ripped in half, but it’s the one that keeps running through his mind. It keeps him company well into the night, breaking him over and over again. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for anyone reading weekly, this chapter has been updated because I had food poisoning while I wrote it and was apparently delirious


	13. Chapter 13

The bell finally rings, freeing Castiel from staring down at the same question he hadn’t been working on the entire class. He practically bolts out the door, making a point not to look at Dean as he passes him. He knows Dean isn’t looking. 

This is the longest they’ve gone without speaking since the start of the year. Even then, Dean sat next to him and he’d at least get a ‘good morning’ or something like that. None of that this week. Sitting as far away as he could, no hello, no wave across the hall, no texts, not a single thing. He must’ve figured out the kiss. Remembered it or someone saw and told him or something like that. Now, he won’t even look at Castiel. He’d been desperate to catch him the first day, alarmed by the deep bruise marring his nose. Spotting Cole’s black eye, Castiel could guess what had happened.

There’s been an ‘I told you so’ dancing behind Balthazar’s eyes, but he’s been kind enough not to say it. They’d made up over lunch, Balthazar apologized for blowing up and Castiel apologized for making him feel left out. They’d skipped around actually talking about Dean, which he was grateful for. He’d still been stupidly optimistic that even though Dean didn’t remember, the kiss might’ve meant something. Now he knows better. 

One more hour for debate and Castiel can finally go home and spend the next 48 hours moping without anyone else seeing him. He heads down the hall to their meeting room, finding his seat and dropping his forehead to the desk, sighing. The chair next to him squeaks as it’s pulled out, and Charlie’s bag smacks into his leg under the table. 

“If I ask you what’s wrong, are you just going to say nothing and continue to mope?” Castiel nods. He’s out of energy for even pretending to pretend today. Charlie sighs heavily, the chair squealing again as she shifts. “My friends are acting like idiots.” 

“Ouch,” Castiel mutters, voice muffled and breath leaving a small circle of condensation on the desktop. 

“I wouldn’t have to say it if it wasn’t true.” Castiel picks his head up, looking over at Charlie. Her arms are folded over her chest and she’s slouched back in her chair. 

“We haven’t even started prepping our materials for this debate, can you wait to call me stupid until I’ve shown it?” 

“I’m not calling you stupid. I said my friends are acting like idiots, that’s different.” Castiel lifts an eyebrow, leaning back in his chair. 

“How exactly is that different?” he questions skeptically 

“I have very smart friends who are very nice people, they just forget to use their brains sometimes.” Charlie is staring at him pointedly, but Castiel doesn’t want to acknowledge it. He’s not going to talk about it, because that will make it even more real. 

“Sounds like your friends need a little time to get their brains in working order again.” Right now, it feels like that will never happen, but Castiel isn’t fatalistic enough to believe that. Charlie rolls her eyes, muttering something under her breath as she slouches even further into her chair. Castiel decides not to ask for clarification, settling his forehead back on his hands. 

There’s a lot of shuffling and chatter as everyone else comes into the room. Castiel can tell when Kevin and Sam come in, not just recognizing their voices but they’re the only one with a file box that is already so full that it makes such a commanding thud on the desk. It does distract Charlie as well, though, and he hears her starting to chat with Kevin. Hopefully it will hold her attention and keep her from prodding at Castiel any further. 

He manages to stay folded over the desk and avoid conversation for the time being. When did he become so transparent? Everyone in their class has to know that he’s pining over a straight guy. He wouldn’t blame them for laughing at him, Balthazar did warn him. 

Someone shakes his shoulder so hard knocks his arm out from under him, forehead thudding against the desk. Frowning, he sits up, rubbing his head. “Ouch again, Charlie.” She is nonplussed, grinning. 

“Ready to witness Sam regress like 10 years?” He’s confused, but when he looks where Charlie is pointing he sees Eileen heading across the room towards them. The moment Sam looks up, he goes pink in the cheeks. Glancing over at Castiel and Charlie, he shrinks down in his chair when he notices them staring. 

“Hey guys,” she greets, lifting a hand in a wave. “Sam, I didn’t get to congratulate you at our last meet, but you did great, as usual.” She smiles and Sam slips a little lower in his chair, choking out something that sounds a little like ‘thank you.’ It’s not as funny to watch as it usually is, not with a fresh reminder of how much it could hurt to be turned down. 

“Didn’t you get a trophy too?” he interjects, leaning forward to make sure Eileen can see him. She grins and shrugs her shoulders, looking a little sheepish. 

“Yes, I did, thank you very much.” 

“Congratulations to you, too. Also.” Sam pipes up. At least he’s making sentences now, it’s an improvement. Castiel smiles over at the other in spite of himself. He hopes that Sam’s crush turns out to be a little more harmless. At least if it wasn’t he wouldn’t have to worry about everyone thinking he was desperate just because he was gay.

Mr. Crowe enters and saves Sam from any more conversation. Eileen waves as she walks away, heading back to her table. It’s covered in papers, and she immediately starts marking one as she sits. Research assignments are given out and the room dissolves into friendly chatter as they set to work.

Unsurprisingly, Kevin and Sam add another ream of papers to their file in the hour. Castiel does manage to contribute a fair amount to his own file. It’s nice to have something else to focus on. Charlie seems distracted by it as well, though Castiel does catch her giving him that sad look out of the corner of her eye every so often still. The time goes by quickly with so much to work on. The beginning of the semester is always the busiest, when they’re given new topics. Laying the groundwork is important, and then the rest of the semester they can work on perfecting it. 

“I’m taking all the files home tonight, can you help me carry them out to the car?” Sam questions. He and Kevin are the only ones that ever end up with two file boxes, especially this early on, but that’s why they dominate the way they do. 

“No problem.” Castiel grabs the other box, adjusting his bag over his shoulder. He’s still been giving Sam rides home this week, he’s just much quicker about pulling away once Sam is out of the car now. They head out to Castiel’s car, setting the file boxes in the back seat and climbing in. 

“Adam’s been asking every day when Samandriel can come over again,” Sam comments, reaching over to fiddle with the radio. He always complains about Dean’s dictatorship over the music in his car, so Castiel lets Sam pick what they listen to for the short drive to his house. 

“Samandriel has been too! He keeps saying they have a ‘secret mission’ to finish but they won’t tell anyone else what it is.” 

“Adam calls it a secret missile, but I guess mission makes a lot more sense,” Sam says thoughtfully, settling on a station and turning it up a little before he settles back in his seat. “I wonder what they’re doing.” 

“They have a comic book they’re writing together, they showed us a couple of weeks ago.” That night was fun, and Dean had been so thoughtful coming over. It makes Castiel’s heart ache remembering it, how close they’d been, how easy it had been to spend a few hours together. 

“Oh, Adam did ask me how to spell villain the other day.” Castiel tries to push away his melancholy thoughts, smiling softly. At least their brothers got along well, and Castiel is friends with Sam. Hopefully messing up everything with Dean wouldn’t destroy everyone else’s relationships. 

Sam reaches for the radio again, the sleeve of his shirt pulling up a little. A dark bruise creeps up his forearm, and Castiel frowns. He considers asking, but Sam seems to be okay otherwise, and he does play soccer. Castiel isn’t sure how much contact soccer is supposed to have. Not enough to leave a bruise on Sam’s arm like that, but he’s no expert. Sam settles back, drumming his fingers against his knee and humming under his breath. 

There was something Dean had said about their dad being strict. That doesn’t necessarily mean anything, but Castiel makes a mental note to ask Dean about it before he realizes he likely won’t be getting that chance. His fingers tighten around the steering wheel, jaw clenching. This is so  _ stupid _ . He can’t wait to get home and watch something mind-numbing and get away from his thoughts for a while. Not Ghost Rider, or Star Wars, or that stupid Bee Movie, those wouldn’t help, but he’ll find something. 

It’s a relief that Sam doesn’t mind the quiet, happy to listen to music until they pull up in front of his house. “Hey, can you help me carry these in?” Castiel glances into the back seat at the boxes, brow furrowing a little. He’s seen Sam carry these by himself all the time and he really, really doesn’t want to go into the house. 

“You’re half a foot taller than me, Sam, I think you can carry them.” He looks back to Sam and the absolutely pitiful expression the other has on his face. Castiel thought Dean was good at pouting but Sam certainly has his own way with it. Sighing heavily, Castiel turns off the ignition and pockets the keys. “Fine, fine. But I’m carrying the lighter one.” 

“Okay!” Sam bounds out of the car and grabs his backpack and box, starting towards the house. Castiel takes a deep breath, steadying himself. It’s not a big deal. Dean has hockey late on Friday’s, so he won’t even be here. Castiel can just walk the file box upstairs and walk out and Dean doesn’t have to know he was ever here. It’s fine. 

For some reason, Sam’s waiting at the door for him, pulling it open and waving Castiel in first. Just being polite? Castiel isn’t sure, but he’s overthinking everything right now. Sam steps in after him, letting the door fall shut behind them with a thud. 

“What’s up, bitch? You’re never gonna believe-” Dean cuts off suddenly, his head popping up over the back of the sofa. He looks as shocked to see Castiel as he feels seeing Dean. He isn’t supposed to be here. Castiel is frozen, heart in his throat. It’s the first time he’s actually looked at Dean in the last week, and somehow he looks even more gorgeous than usual. Castiel always thought the ‘absence makes the heart grow fonder’ line was ridiculous, but maybe it carries more truth than he realized. 

“Oh yeah, Dean’s practice was cancelled today.” The way Sam says it makes it sound too much like he planned this. He takes the file box from Castiel and practically skips up the stairs with it. Needed help his ass. Castiel is still just standing there, staring at Dean, and Dean is just staring back. The space between them feels impassible, like a canyon has opened up in the middle of the floor and he’d never be able to get to the other side. 

“I was just- Sam asked for help. I’ll go now.” Castiel turns quickly, ready to run out the door. 

“Wait!” Castiel freezes again, a hand already reaching for the doorknob. “Wait, please. Can- can we talk for a minute?” He could just say no. He could say nothing and walk out the door and avoid facing whatever Dean’s going to say to him. He doesn’t think he wants to hear it. Sorry we can’t be friends after you came onto me. You’re nice and all but I’m not gay. I’m so uncomfortable it’d be better if you just never spoke to me again. 

But Castiel hasn’t talked to Dean all week, and he misses him. Not just the starry-eyed, he’s-cute-and-I-want-to-kiss-him kind of missing, but he misses his friend. Whispering together in class and throwing pieces of french fries into Dean’s mouth at lunch. Just being around someone who makes him laugh and feel good. Maybe, just maybe, if Castiel will talk to him now, they can try to salvage that. It’s that hope that makes him turn back around, nodding his head stiffly. 

Dean climbs off the sofa quickly, glancing back at the seat next to him. Castiel hasn’t even noticed the TV is playing, but it is, and Adam’s sitting there enamored with whatever cartoon is playing on screen. “Can we go upstairs?” Dean asks, starting towards the base of the staircase. Castiel’s daydream this conversation is going to go well drops a little further. He can’t even say what he needs to say in front of Adam, is he going to chew Castiel out? Castiel has already agreed to talk though, so he nods again. It’s a struggle to convince his legs to move to follow Dean up the stairs, each step feeling monumental. 

Last time, Castiel had been surprised by how neat Dean’s room was. Today, his surprise topples in the other direction. There’s clothes strewn all over the floor, bookshelves chaotic with things tucked in haphazardly. His backpack has been emptied into the corner of his room and is sitting on top of the pile of papers that were presumably in it at one point. It looks like half the pictures above Dean’s desk have come down, leaving empty gaps in random places. Castiel steps in, feeling vaguely ill as the door clicks shut behind them. 

Another strange, uncomfortable silence stretches between them. Dean’s just staring at him, something swimming in his eyes that Castiel can’t quite make out. Now that Castiel has gotten over the initial shock of just seeing Dean’s face, he notices how tired the other looks. There’s still a yellowing bruise trying to heal across the bridge of his nose, masking his freckles. Stubble has taken over his jaw, a five o’clock shadow that had been left an extra day or two. 

“I’m sorry.” It’s not necessarily the first thing Castiel expects to hear, but his mind is already trying to fill in the blanks after, anything that could go wrong. Dean shifts uncomfortably in front of him, running a hand through his hair. “I… I’m sorry I didn’t remember, and I’m sorry that I was acting like an idiot. You’re my best friend, and this week has been absolute shit. I know that I fucked up, but I want… I still want to be friends, if you want.” 

“This week has been shit,” Castiel agrees, folding his arms over his chest. He has missed Dean, so, so much, but there’s some whisper of self preservation in Castiel that’s trying to remind him how badly this hurts. As much as he wants to be friends, it might not be good for him. 

“I’m sorry,” Dean repeats, eyes shining a little too brightly and a crack in his voice. Self preservation proves to be fleeting. He can’t stand Dean looking at him like this. Castiel sighs softly, watching Dean for another moment before nodding his head. 

“I still want to be your friend, too, Dean.” Castiel can just turn to his memory when he’s feeling desperate, it’s better than losing Dean entirely. 

“Really?” Somehow Dean can still capture a childlike wonder in his expression. The corner of Castiel’s mouth quirks up without his permission.

“Yes, really. It’s been lonely this week.” 

“Thank you, thank you Cas. I shouldn’t have been such an asshole, I was just freaking out, but I promise I’ll never do it again. I shouldn’t have just assumed that you would be into me just because you’re gay, that’s all on me.” Dean’s talking more quickly now, hands gesturing. 

“What?” Against his better judgement, Castiel’s heart gives a hopeful leap. He doesn’t want to jump to conclusions and be let down again, but the comment has caught him by surprise. 

“I won’t try anything again. I know you didn’t want it and it was pretty fucking awful of me to just go for it while I was drunk, and I should have never put you in that situation.” Dean twists his hands together in front of him, biting his lip and shifting on his feet. 

“I didn’t want it?” That couldn’t be further from the truth. How exactly did Dean remember the kiss? Surely Castiel hadn’t been so drunk he’d forgotten something too. 

“I, uh… well, Cole, he had a video. And you... I mean, you pushed me away. Which is fine! Like I said, I shouldn’t have just assumed you would be into me, and I don’t want-” 

“Dean.” Castiel cuts him off, his eyebrows pulling together as he stares at the other. “The only reason I didn’t kiss you back was because you were so drunk that you couldn’t sit up straight.” Surprise takes over Dean’s expression, his eyes going wide and lips falling open just slightly. “I didn’t want you to think I was taking advantage of you while you were vulnerable.” 

“The only reason?” 

“Yes. You did throw up on my shoes maybe ten seconds later. It wasn’t because I didn’t want to. Because I did.” Castiel bites his lip, taking a deep breath as he looks into Dean’s eyes, heart in his throat. “I wanted to.” It’s terrifying putting the words out there, knowing he can’t take them back now. There’s no dancing around it, if he’s misreading this whole situation then he’s definitely driving a wedge between him and Dean.

“Oh.” Dean frowns, dropping his eyes to a spot on the floor between them. Castiel can practically see the gears turning in his head, each second that passes making Castiel feel more and more uncertain. It drives a shock through him when Dean looks back to him, eyes big and open and  _ hopeful _ . “So… if I was… if I kissed you while I was sober, you… would you kiss me back?”

A nervous current of energy pulses through Castiel. He has the urge to pinch his arm, wondering if his desperate mind has just dreamed this up and he’s going to wake up in class feeling even more hopeless than before. It takes him a moment to realize that he’s not saying anything, just standing there looking back at Dean while his brain implodes. 

“Yes.” His voice comes out rough, and he’s suddenly aware of his palms sweating. Dean nods, staying still for an endless second before he steps forward. Castiel wants to step in to meet him, but he’s rooted in his spot, too shocked to move. He lets Dean come to him, tilting his head up just a little to keep his gaze on his face as he comes close enough to touch. Dean’s hand cups his jaw, the touch more tentative than it had been the night of the party. His eyes are flickering over Castiel’s face like they can’t choose one spot to settle on, taking in everything. 

Dean’s tongue poking out to wet his lips finally does Castiel in. He closes the space between them, making a soft noise as their lips touch. He’s been replaying their first kiss in his head on an endless loop since it happened, but it can’t compare. Dean wants this. That alone is enough to make the kiss feel different. Sober Dean just happens to be better at kissing too, his lips moving with more intention against Castiel’s. His free arm comes around Castiel’s waist, tugging him flush. Castiel’s hands land on Dean’s chest, scrunching the soft fabric of his t-shirt as he grabs on. 

It’s overwhelming, but Castiel doesn’t want it to end. He’s spent seven days thinking Dean despised him, that he couldn’t look at him. To find out that it’s the opposite is making Castiel’s head spin. Dean’s lips are soft and full, and the smoky, woody scent that his hoodies always carried is so much stronger here. There’s no air left in Castiel’s lungs. He pulls away to try to breathe, but Dean shakes his head, hand moving from Castiel’s jaw to the back of his head, pulling him back in. 

Yeah, breathing can wait. 

There’s a reward in the small sound Dean makes as Castiel presses into the kiss eagerly. Warmth burns through him, radiating from his chest outwards. He wants to press closer, but Dean already has him pulled as close as he can. Instead, he slides one arm up and around Dean’s neck, slowly, savoring every inch he gets to touch along the way. Stubble scratches around Castiel’s mouth, burning a little, adding to the barrage of sensations. 

Castiel has no idea how long they stand there. Time doesn’t matter, air doesn’t matter, nothing exists outside of their lips. Dean’s hand drags up his back and Castiel pushes onto his toes, like he can prove how bad he wants this by deepening the kiss. When they finally break apart Castiel has to suck in a desperate breath, lungs burning. 

He doesn’t go far, looking up at Dean, breathing heavily as he tries to come back down to earth. Dean’s face is flushed, lips pink and even more enticing now that Castiel knows what they feel like. The green of his eyes is a little less brilliant because his pupils are blown wide, which is thrilling on it’s own. Dean wants to kiss him. Castiel still can’t wrap his head around it. 

What he can do is wrap his arms around Dean’s chest, pressing his face to his shoulder. Castiel has enjoyed their hugs in the past, but there was always a twinge of guilt that ran alongside it. Now he can just revel in the feeling, squeezing his arms around the other. Dean’s arms are snug around his shoulder, and they take another moment just to stand there holding each other. 

“You know, we’re kind of idiots,” Castiel mutters after a moment, muffled since he can’t be bothered to lift his head, too content where he is. It’s especially nice when a soft laugh rumbles through Dean’s chest.

“Normally I wouldn’t let you say that but I think you have a point this time.” If either one of them had said something, they could have saved an entire week of loneliness and disappointment. Castiel was initially a little peeved with Sam for tricking him into the house, but maybe he was just proving that he was smarter than the both of them and they needed some help. 

Dean’s arms falling from around Castiel incites a moment of panic, but he just grabs Castiel’s hand and pulls him towards the bed. They’ve sat here together before, but it feels different as Castiel settles in, back against the wall. Dean lets go of his hand while he gets comfortable next to him, but he reaches right back out, lacing their fingers together. Castiel might be tempted to say the hand holding is better than kissing, but he can’t choose a favorite. Dean clears his throat quietly, glancing over at Castiel.

“So, did I actually do anything else embarrassing at the party?” 

“No.” Castiel pauses, tilting his head slightly as he reconsiders. “Well, you did have a lot to say to me before you kissed me.” 

“Oh no,” Dean groans, using his free hand to try and cover his face. “Do I even want to know?” 

“It was very sweet.” Dean makes another pained noise, pulling his knees up towards his chest. “You told me I should get a niceness trophy.” 

“What the hell is a niceness trophy?” Dean peeks from between his fingers towards Castiel. His cheeks are still red, but Castiel isn’t sure if it’s still because of the kiss or he’s just embarrassed to hear what he said. 

“No idea, but you were very confident that I’d win a lot of them. And then you kind of... called me a star?” Dean actually winces, as if it is physically painful to hear what he said. “I didn’t really follow it entirely, if I’m honest. But it was very sweet.” 

“And then I threw up on your shoes?” Castiel nods and Dean sighs, leaning over to rest his head on Castiel’s shoulder. “And you still want to kiss me now after all that?” 

“Absolutely.” Castiel gives a gentle squeeze around Dean’s hand, smiling when it is returned. Silence settles between them, not the tense silence that had greeted them when they first entered the room. It’s comfortable, soothing almost, especially with Dean’s thumb rubbing gently over the back of Castiel’s hand. 

“Hey Cas?” The steady rhythm of Dean’s thumb rubbing back and forth doesn’t falter, but Castiel can feel him shift against his side. 

“Hey Dean?” He can’t see Dean’s face but he’d be willing to bet he’s got that little smirk he wears whenever Castiel imitates him. Dean finds him much funnier than he finds himself, and he’s happy with that. 

“Does this mean you’re like… my, uh, my… my boyfriend now?” Even though they’d just been standing pressed against each other, the idea makes Castiel’s heart skip a beat. 

“I don’t know. Do you want me to be?” Castiel expects the silence he gets from Dean, but it doesn’t make it any less nerve-wracking. Dean wanting to kiss him didn’t necessarily mean he wanted a relationship. 

“I guess I should be asking if you want me to be yours,” Dean tilts his head a little, looking towards Castiel through his eyelashes. 

“Yes. I thought it was obvious.” Castiel is just spitting out all kinds of things he didn’t expect he’d ever say, but at this point he’s in too deep to stop now. 

“So I guess we’re… boyfriends, then.” Castiel notices the little bit of hesitation before Dean says the word again. 

“We can use a different word, if you want. Partners or something.” 

“Hell no. I like cowboys but I’m not calling you  _ partner _ . Boyfriend is good, I just gotta get used to it.” Dean’s hand squeezes around Castiel’s gently. 

“Boyfriends,” Castiel agrees, feeling a little thrill just getting to say it out loud. If he is dreaming he doesn’t know how he’s going to be able to survive when he wakes up, but this feels real. Dean’s is here, solid and warm against his side, hair brushing against Castiel’s cheek. Their hands are a little sweaty, but neither one of them has let go yet. 

“Can we… kind of keep this quiet?” Dean’s voice is uncharacteristically small as he speaks up. “I’m not… I don’t know if I can come out. Or if I want to. Or if I need to. I don’t really know what’s going on with me,” he admits. Castiel would be lying if he said he wasn’t a little dismayed. He wants to be able to hold Dean’s hand when he wants and sneak little kisses throughout the day, but he understands. 

“We can do that.” He’s lucky he had Gabriel to kind of lead the way, coming out to their parents first. It’d made it much easier when Castiel started realizing his own feelings, and he could turn to Gabriel for guidance.

“I’m a mess, you don’t have to agree to it.” Dean glances at Castiel again, swallowing thickly, corners of his mouth turning down. With what Castiel hopes is a comforting smile, he shakes his head.

“I want to.” Dean’s lost his mind if he thinks he can ask Castiel to be his boyfriend and he’s just going to dump him less than a minute later.

“Are you trying to steal my line?” It brings a smile back to Dean’s face, and he picks up his head. 

“It’s a good line.” That makes Dean smile a little wider, rolling his eyes dramatically. 

“Then I’m going to steal yours and tell you that you’re a dork.” A laugh bubbles out of Castiel. He takes advantage of their closeness to press a kiss into Dean’s hair. 

“Takes one to know one.” That’s one thing that Castiel has never wavered on. Dean has a bad boy kind of air about him, with his leather jacket and carefree smile, peeling out of the parking lot in his classic muscle car. It didn’t take Castiel long to see through all of that, to the boy who practically raised his brother, and had very strong opinions about Star Wars movies, and complained about reading but could devour a book if he thought no one else was paying attention. Maybe dork wasn’t the right word for it, but whatever it is, it’s something that Castiel adores. Dean smiles, leaning his head back against the wall, staring at a spot on the ceiling. 

“Hey,” Castiel says softly. He hesitates in reaching out and touching Dean’s cheek, but all it takes is a brush of his fingers to encourage Dean to turn his head towards him. “You deserve to have a chance to figure this out. I’d never tell anyone that you didn’t want me to. And if you just happen to make out with me while you’re figuring it out, that’s a bonus for me.” 

Castiel has just enough time to realize that Dean’s eyes dropped from his so they can zero in on his lips, but it doesn’t stop his heart from slamming into his ribcage when the other is kissing him again. It’s brief this time, but still just as good as the others have been. “You’re amazing, you know that?” Dean’s breath is warm against Castiel’s lips where he hovers close. 

“I think the word you’re looking for is nice.” It’s a shock that Castiel has enough neurons firing to try and make a joke, but it’s worth it when Dean laughs and dips in for another kiss. He’s pressing a little closer, shifting onto his knees, a hand coming to Castiel’s shoulder to balance himself. Castiel could die happy right here, he doesn’t want to know anything else. He’s ready to pull Dean onto his lap, a hand moving towards his hip, when the door slams open, making both of them jump. 

“Deeaan.” Adam drags his name out, somehow adding extra syllables to it in the process. “The TV is broken again.” Castiel has never seen Dean’s cheeks this red. He can practically feel the warmth radiating off of Dean where his hand still rests at his jaw. He drops his arm, watching Dean’s mouth open and close uselessly a few times. “It’s not my fault, it just turned off. I wasn’t even touching the remote.” The guilty expression that takes over Adam’s face is enough to make Castiel suspect that he was, in fact, touching the remote. 

“I bet we can fix it,” Castiel says, giving Dean a little nudge. “Right, Dean?” 

“Yeah,” Dean rasps out, clearing his throat and sitting back on his heels. “It just turned off?” It’s clear he’s still struggling to process. Castiel really shouldn’t think his fumbling around is cute, but he’s going to allow it, considering their newly minted relationship status. 

“Yes, and now I’m gonna miss the end of Ollie’s Pack and I won’t know if they save Captain Wowski.” Adam crosses the room, grabbing Dean’s arms with both hands and trying to tug him off the bed. 

“Okay, okay, I’m coming,” Dean grumbles, trying to straighten out his shirt as he stands up, but Adam is already pulling him towards the door. He throws an apologetic glance over his shoulder before he stumbles forward. “Chill out, Adam, you’re going to make us fall down the stairs.” There’s no thumping or thudding that would imply Adam was able to pull them off balance, their voices trailing off as they head downstairs. Castiel takes a second just to breathe, slow to climb off the bed. 

By the time he makes it down to the living room, the TV is already back on and Dean is standing next to the sofa trying to shove batteries back in the remote. Now that Castiel is actually looking at the screen, he does vaguely recognize the cartoon boy running around. “Samandriel watches this show too, I think.” 

“It’s ‘cause I told him too,” Adam says proudly. The show cuts to commercial and Adam twists, settling on his knees with his arms resting on the back of the sofa so he can look at Castiel. 

“You guys like a lot of the same stuff, don’t you?” Adam nods excitedly, wiggling a little. Castiel is glad Samandriel’s abundance of kid energy comes out mostly in getting up early to read or drawing a dozen pictures in an hour. 

“We have a secret missile,” he attempts to whisper. Really, it only serves to make his voice hoarse, but just as loud as before. 

“So I’ve heard.” Castiel’s not going to correct Adam, he’ll let one of his brothers take care of that. Well, Sam, since he’s pretty sure that Dean is only going to encourage him. 

“Secret,” Adam emphasizes, zipping his fingers across his lips. Castiel smiles a little and imitates him. “Mandy told me that Dean brought you guys pizza. He must like you a lot, he never brings me pizza.” He’s right back to regular volume now, and Dean shakes his head as he comes around to stand next to Castiel. 

“Adam, we got pizza after school the day before yesterday,” Dean replies in a flat voice. 

“Yeah, but Samandriel said that he got to eat in bed and I never get to eat in bed. Mom always tells me I can’t.” Adam rests his chin on his hands, looking up at them. 

“That’s not my rule, you have to talk to her about that.” Castiel feels something brush against his hand. Glancing down, he sees Dean’s pinky hook around his and he has to bite back a grin. Warmth blossoms in his chest, absolutely thrilled that his suspicion that Dean’s a big, soft sweetheart is proving to be correct.

“You always have crumbs in your bed,” Adam pouts. He’s learning from his brothers well on that front.

“Well you can have crumbs in your bed when you’re an adult too.” Castiel glances over at Dean, unable to hold back his smile when he catches his eye. 

“You’re not a adult.” Adam leaves no room for argument, sliding back down onto the couch and turning back to the television as the show starts back up. 

“He told you,” Castiel mutters, bumping his shoulder into Dean’s. 

“I am an adult.” The petulant way Dean says it doesn’t help him sound any more like an adult, but Castiel isn’t going to argue when Dean nudges his shoulder back. Now that he knows he’s not imagining it when Dean looks at his lips, it makes him want to put them to use them that much more. He already promised to keep it together, though, even if Adam did already walk in on them. Castiel isn’t sure that Adam really noticed anything, but it’s probably best not to push his luck on their first day. 

Buzzing against his thigh catches his attention. He pulls out his phone, frowning at the screen. “I should probably get going.” 

“Everything alright?” Dean questions, concern lining his expression. 

“Yeah, it’s just Anna. She asked if I’d be home for dinner, apparently our mom is in a mood.” Castiel doesn’t have to explain any further, Dean just nods knowingly. He walks with Castiel to the door, pausing there and linking their fingers together properly. 

“I don’t want you to go.” Dean squeezes his hand, biting his lip. “Promise you’re not going to change your mind when you leave?” 

“Promise,” Castiel answers, squeezing Dean’s hand back tightly. His expression is so open and earnest, Castiel’s heart is in his throat again. Kindness is something that seems to run deep in Dean, but Castiel feels like he gets a special look at it sometimes. 

Dean nods, glancing up the stairs and over his shoulder before he comes in to kiss Castiel, quick and hard. It takes an astonishing amount of willpower for Castiel not to grab him and pull him back in. The promise of more in the future is the only thing that convinces him to step back, giving Dean a small smile. “Text me later?” 

“I’m probably going to text you as soon as I get the car.” Being open about how eager he is still has the possibility of being very embarrassing, but Dean grins and Castiel just about melts where he stands. With a final squeeze to Dean’s hand, he pulls the door and heads to his car. He’s practically floating, he’s so happy. Is it safe to drive with his head so far in the clouds? Castiel doesn’t know, and right now he really doesn’t care. 

Anna is still waiting for a reply, so Castiel tugs his phone out, grinning when he sees that there’s a new message from Dean waiting for him already. 

**Dean:** beat you to it  😘 

Castiel is still smiling when he pulls up at home, he smiles through dinner even when his mom makes snarky comments to Anna, he’s smiling as he reads Samandriel a story before bed. It’s such a stark contrast from how he’d felt all week, just being happy is making him happier. 

Night slips by without Castiel getting much sleep, phone buzzing every few seconds with new messages from Dean. By the time morning rolls around, he’s not sure that he’s ever going to be able to stop smiling. He’s okay with that. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tbh in my original sketches of this I made them pine for like 5 more chapters but I'm WEAK. I just want Cas to be happy that's all I want in my pathetic little life rn


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yeah it's not sunday but anyone who suffered through the finale deserves a reward

Study hall is a stupid name for the hour Dean gets to spend in the library every day. If they wanted him to study, they shouldn’t have put his friends here with him. The week he’d gone without talking to Cas was the only time he’d managed to get anything done while he was there.

Castiel tries valiantly to work, and sometimes Dean lets him, but it’s harder now. Asking to keep it quiet is the right move, he still needs some time to figure it out, and if he can make it to the end of the year without having to make a big deal about it, he can breathe a little easier. 

On the other hand, he’s  _ obsessed _ with Castiel. Reaching out to touch him or fix his hair, and he can’t even look him in the face without noticing his lips. They only make it to lunch about every other day. The rest of the time, Dean convinces Castiel to ‘go out’ for lunch, which is really just finding a somewhat secluded place to park and make out for half an hour. Convince isn’t the right word, either, because Dean just has to hint towards it and Cas is on board. 

Right now, Castiel is hunched over a paper, a line of concentration between his eyebrows. His tongue pokes out right at the corner of his lip, and there’s one piece of hair that refuses to lay down with the rest no matter how many times he runs his hand over it. Dean has a similar worksheet in front of him, but he hasn’t even looked at it. Charlie and Balthazar are bickering across the table, something about psychics this time. They’re almost like siblings, the way they go back and forth, but it seems to make them happy, so Dean doesn’t judge. 

Dean settles his elbows on the table, propping his chin in his hands so he can look over at Castiel. A shout from Balthazar draws Cas’ attention away from his paper, looking across the table at them before he gives an almost imperceptible roll of his eyes. Along the way, he catches Dean staring, the corner of his lip pulling up. A pink tinge takes over his cheeks before he looks back down at the paper, shaking his head. 

The only thing that pulls Dean’s attention away from Castiel is Charlie shoving her chair back and storming off into the bookshelves. “She’s so stubborn,” Balthazar grumbles, folding his arms over his chest. Dean elects not to point out that Balthazar is being just as bad, nodding his head sympathetically. Charlie comes back to the table, dropping two thick books down with a loud thud. 

“Palm reading doesn’t work. Here’s two books about palm reading that are completely contradictory. Look at this.” She flips open both books, turning them towards Balthazar. “See, they can’t even agree on the life line, which is like the biggest, easiest one. They just make up what they want to.” 

“Perhaps different people are just sensitive to different readings,” Balthazar answers, not even sparing a glance at the book. Dean’s pretty sure that Balthazar probably doesn’t have that strong of an opinion on psychics or palm reading, but he takes a side against Charlie just to watch her try to prove him wrong. 

“Or they’re just making shit up!” Exasperation is clear in Charlie’s voice as she flips to the next page, pointing at another box. “What about this, then? They don’t even call it the same thing.” They’ve caught Castiel’s attention now as well, and he leans over a little to look at the books. 

“What if you just have a psychic block, Charlie?” Dean gives her a shit-eating grin, met with an unamused glare. “I bet I can read Cas’ palm.” One of the books has a much simpler, color coded photo on the open page, so he grabs that one and flips it back towards himself. “C’mere, let me see.” He turns towards Castiel, holding a hand out and grinning when the other obediently drops his hand into it. 

“For the record, I’m not entirely sure this is accurate either.” Castiel does look doubtful, but there’s still a little smile playing at the corner of his lips. 

“At least one of you has some sense,” Charlie grumbles, but she doesn’t move, watching Dean look over the page. 

“Hold on, wrong hand.” Apparently right and left were different. Castiel swaps hands, wiggling his fingers a little. “Okay, so the life line,” he starts, running a finger lightly over the line that runs past Castiel’s thumb and to the heel of palm. “I guess I would call this… long? So you’re a rock.” 

“A rock?” Castiel repeats dubiously. 

“Maybe they mean really hard-headed,” Balthazar chimes in. Dean sees Charlie’s lip twitch, but she quickly returns to trying to look impassive. 

“Hard-headed  _ and _ dependable.” Dean traces the line again, watching Castiel’s fingers wiggle again. “Head line.” He moves to a straight line cutting across the center of Castiel’s hand, dragging his finger across this one too. “This one says…” It takes a moment for Dean to find it on the page, a little bit distracted by Castiel’s hand in his. “Okay, so this one is that you’re a thinker. A lot. Over thinker, even.” 

“I don’t think we needed his hand to tell us that.” Castiel shoots Balthazar a look, somehow keeping a straight face when Balthazar grins at him. 

“That is my point exactly!” Charlie exclaims. “It’s not telling us anything new, we already know that Cas is a dependable over-thinker.” 

“But that means that it’s right, so I think that proves I’m right.” Charlie opens her mouth to start a rebuttal, but Dean shakes his head. 

“Hold on, hold on, we still have one more big one, we have to see if it’s right.” Dean finds the last one, curving just under his pinky and into the middle of his hand. It’s not as long as the others, and Dean can feel a tiny shiver work up Castiel’s arm as he follows it back and forth a few times. Pink stains his cheeks when Dean looks up at him, grinning. “This one says you prefer small groups, but your favorite is just being alone with someone.” 

“It’s also right, so doesn’t that mean that it works?” Balthazar questions. 

“No, no, it just means that this stuff is really good at being just vague enough that it could apply to anyone.” She snatches the book from the table, eyes flickering back and forth as she scans the text. “I mean, look at this! If your heart line makes an x it means you’ve experienced a ‘deep personal betrayal.’ I’m positive everyone could come up with something that aligns. For example, Dean siding against me is a deep personal betrayal. Bam.” 

“Hey, I didn’t side with anyone! I was just doing the reading.” Castiel hasn’t moved his hand from where it’s cradled in Deans and he’s happy to keep it there a little longer. “Speaking of, don’t we have to do the left now? See what the differences are?” 

“No.” Charlie grabs both books, snapping them closed. “I’m putting these away.” 

“It’s alright, I’m an expert now, I can do it without the book.” Dean turns back to Castiel, reaching out for his left hand. “Ready?” Lightly, Dean runs his fingertips over Castiel’s hand, frowning down at it dramatically. “I’m getting a sense from this here,” he mutters. “I sense that… you have terrible taste in movies.” 

“Don’t be rude,” Castiel chides, but he’s smiling when Dean looks up at him. 

“It’s not me, it’s your hand aura. Just like this one, over here, this tells me that you’re in love with bees.” 

“I’m not in love with them!” 

“You kind of are, Cassie.” Dean almost forgot that Balthazar is sitting across the table, watching them with a hint of a frown. Castiel huffs, the color on his cheeks deepening a little. 

“See? Balthazar must be a good palm reader too.” They all spend a fair amount of time together as a little pod, Castiel, Charlie, Balthazar, and Dean. Lunches when Dean’s not kidnapping Castiel, study hall, classes they have together. It’s nothing compared to the waves of hostility that radiate off Cole, but sometimes Dean feels like Balthazar doesn’t exactly appreciate his company. The little frown he’s wearing is still there when Dean glances over at him again, his gaze focused on their hands. 

Dean thinks that Castiel must notice as well because he lifts his hands from Dean’s, but then he reaches to turn Dean’s hand over in his own. “Fine, I get to read yours then,” Castiel says. That little crinkle of focus between his eyebrow reappears as he stares down intently at Dean’s hand. He traces the line under Dean’s fingers, which Dean has already forgotten the name of. 

“This one means that… you’re really good with your hands.” Sometimes Castiel says these things and doesn’t seem to realize the suggestiveness of it, and Dean does his best to shove down his own thoughts. 

“Why?” Balthazar demands, leaning his elbows on the table and trying to look at Dean’s hand. 

“Hey, I built my own car, I think he’s right.” Bragging isn’t Dean’s style, but the Impala is something that he’s very, very proud of. Balthazar looks down at Dean’s hand again before nodding and setting back in his seat, though suspicion still lurks in his eyes. 

Castiel’s touch is feather light as he follows the scar curling over Dean’s palm. “This line means that you’re a dumbass.” He says it with an absolutely straight face, and Dean snorts softly. 

“Hey, what did you say about being rude?” 

“It’s just what I’m reading.” Castiel glances up at Dean, a little smirk pulling at the corner of his lip, and Dean wants to kiss him so fucking bad he thinks he might explode. He’s rescued by Charlie returning to the table, dropping into her seat next to Balthazar and opening the new book she brought with her. 

“Look, this book literally explains all of the tricks that psychics use.” She slides it over in front of Balthazar and their bickering resumes. Castiel watches them for a moment before shaking his head and turning back to his worksheet. It only makes sense for Dean to go back to what he was doing before, too. Chin in hands, he spends the rest of the time watching his boyfriend. 

In his opinion, a study hall well spent. 

***

“One day you’re going to have to let me pick the movie,” Castiel says, watching as Dean adjusts the laptop, positioning it so they can both see it. 

“Only after we finish Batman. We’re only three movies in, you’ve still got at least five more to watch.” Dean had been able to twist Castiel’s arm into watching one a few months before, but he has a little more leverage now that he can promise good company while they watch it. 

“We can’t take a Batman break sometimes?” Castiel reaches for Dean’s hand as soon as he settles next to him, dropping his head to Dean’s shoulder. 

“I don’t want you to lose track of the timelines, we have to do it right.” 

“You’re lucky you’re cute,” Castiel mutters, squeezing Dean’s hand gently. If Dean really thought Castiel truly hated watching the movies, he wouldn’t make him, but he’s seen him get drawn in, and he’d already had it pulled up when they opened his laptop. 

“Not just cute though. I’m the full package. Cute and handsome and hot.” 

“I think the ‘full package’ usually refers to more than your physical appearance.” Castiel says things so clinically sometimes, voice so low and serious, but Dean kind of loves it. 

“Everyone is different,” Dean replies, the little shrug of his shoulder making Castiel’s hair tickle his jaw. 

“Well your package has more than that.” Dean snorts softly, wiggling his shoulder. “What?” Castiel picks his head up, eyes narrowing a little as he looks at Dean. 

“You been checking out my package?” The way Castiel rolls his eyes, he really just turns an exasperated look to the ceiling, but it gets across the same point anyway. 

“You’re disgusting.” 

“And you like me that way.” Dean can’t necessarily understand why, but he’s feeling pretty confident that it’s true. A soft expression takes over Castiel’s face and he doesn’t bother to deny it, instead leaning in and pressing his lips to Dean’s.

Kissing is something Dean has always been a fan of. It feels nice, and it usually creates just enough of a buzz to quiet whatever thoughts are slamming around in his head. Some kisses were better than others, some people gave more buzz. There’s a part of him afraid that he’s going to suddenly realize he’s kissing a guy and it will ruin it, but he never has the opportunity to get that far. It’s not just a buzz when Castiel kisses him, his entire brain short-circuits. 

Hand fisting gently in the front of Castiel’s shirt, Dean pulls him a little closer. If this is what kissing was always supposed to feel like, he’s been missing out. The way Castiel’s lips move against his is intoxicating, and the little noise he makes when Dean touches the tip of his tongue to his lip is even better. Castiel’s hands come up to frame Dean’s face while he presses himself closer to his side. 

This is where they always seem to end up now, and Dean isn’t complaining. He doesn’t think they’ve actually, really watched a movie since they started dating. Give them five minutes sitting close together and they’re a lost cause. Dean lets out a soft, pleased sigh when Castiel lets his teeth scrape lightly over his bottom lip. They’ve been missing out on this for months since neither one of them would say anything, and he’s going to make up for lost time now.

They’re both flushed when they pull apart, Castiel with an easy grin that is rare to earn and just makes Dean want to kiss him again. One day, Cas had apologized for being ‘less experienced’ and Dean had to work incredibly hard not to laugh in his face. Apparently he was just a natural. Dean grins as he looks over Castiel, hands moving from his chest up to his shoulders and down his arms. 

A series of small, white scars catch his eye, dotting the sides of a longer line that runs down to Castiel’s wrist. Dean takes Castiel’s hand to pull his arm a little closer, inspecting the other’s forearm. “Is this from when you broke your arm?” The scars are faint, but now that Dean’s noticed them he’s surprised he hasn’t before. 

“Yeah. They had to rearrange some of my bones, apparently.” Castiel looks at the scar before frowning slightly. “Wait, how did you know I broke my arm?” 

“Gabe told me.” For some reason, that only serves to make Castiel’s frown deepen. 

“Why?” 

“Because he likes to tell me embarrassing stories about you.” That’s not entirely true, but Dean appreciates the way Castiel’s face scrunches up in frustration. “Don’t worry, I think I’ve heard the worst ones.” 

“I’m not going to ask.” Castiel tugs his arm away, settling back against Dean’s side and dropping his head to his shoulder again. “Whatever he said, it didn’t scare you away yet.” Dean grins, pressing a kiss into Castiel’s hair. He can’t wait until Sam starts to date so he can embarrass him with childhood stories too. It’s one of the duties of a big brother, after all. 

The movie is already 20 minutes in once they finally settle in to watch, and Dean spends most of the time distracted by Cas holding his hand, or laughing, or making that soft, sleepy noise in the back of his throat when a movie is losing him. “You’re staring at me,” Castiel mutters after a while, glancing up at Dean, head tilted against his shoulder. 

“I’m not.” Dean was, but he wouldn’t be himself if he just admitted that. “You’re supposed to be watching the movie.” 

“ _ You _ are supposed to be watching the movie.” 

“I’ve already seen it, you are the one that has to focus.” Castiel scoffs softly, but he matches it with a squeeze to Dean’s hand, taking off any edge. 

“Fine, I’ll focus. Will you go get me a water, then?” Castiel picks his head up, pressing a brief kiss to Dean’s cheek. “Please.” 

“What, am I your errand boy now?” Not like Dean actually minds, he’d do just about anything for Cas. Getting water is an easy task. 

“I already went downstairs twice.” It’s not very often Cas uses his big blue eyes to get what he wants, but he sure as hell is doing it right now. 

“Why didn’t you grab a water while you were down there, then?” Despite his questioning, Dean’s already starting to climb off the bed. 

“I forgot.” Castiel can look pitiful when he wants, so not only is Dean convinced to go get him water but he leans over to kiss him quickly before he heads out of the room. 

Hanging out at Castiel’s house might be his favorite. He still finds Castiel’s room to be incredibly cozy, and now he has his own fleece blanket that lives on the corner of Castiel’s bed. Better than that, though, is they’re afforded a little more privacy. Samandriel always knocks, and Dean’s only seen Anna a handful of times. It’s the one place Dean really feels like he can relax and get as cozy with Castiel as he wants without worrying about someone seeing them. 

He grabs a water bottle for himself as well before he heads back up the stairs. It’s been a few weeks now, but his heart still skips a beat when he sees Castiel, especially when he’s grinning at him like he is now. “Thank you.” 

“Now you owe me, Novak.” Dean starts across the room, but he’s interrupted by something stabbing painfully into his foot, almost sending him to the ground. “Son of a bitch! Do you have knives laying around here or something?” Swaying dangerously on his uninjured foot, he pulls the other up to examine. He half expects to be bleeding, but there’s only a tiny round indent in the arch of his foot. A solitary yellow lego stares up at him from the rug. 

“I don’t know why those hurt so bad to step on,” Castiel says, sliding off the bed to grab the little block and set it on his desk. “Samandriel was playing with them in here the other day, he must have missed this one.” 

“Must have,” Dean gripes, setting his foot very carefully back on the floor. 

“I think you’re going to survive.” It’s hard for Dean to keep up his little frowny face when Castiel steps closer, giving him a quick kiss on the cheek before he takes the water bottles from him. Dean wouldn’t say he’s used to any of their kisses yet, but these ones are the ones that throw him off balance the most. Soft and achingly sweet, like Castiel isn’t kissing him to get anything out of it but just because he wants to, because he cares about Dean or some sappy shit like that. 

Castiel is already back on the bed by the time Dean’s pulled himself out of his little reverie. Scanning the floor for any more unnecessarily sharp building toys, he joins the other, flopping back on the bed and settling his head on Castiel’s thigh. “What if I don’t survive, huh? Then you’re going to have the murder weapon.” 

“A lego is a pretty easy thing to plant on somebody else.” Castiel’s reply is casual as he moves a hand into Dean’s hair. “You’re acting like you’ve never stepped on a lego before.” 

“I haven’t.” There’s something hypnotizing about having Cas playing with his hair, pleasant shivers running up and down his spine. Their relationship is still new, but Dean can’t remember new feeling this good with anyone else. 

“Really? I would have thought you loved them when you were little.” 

“Bobby banned them, I guess now I know why.” Dean wiggles his foot, hanging off the end of the bed, grinning up at Castiel as he works his fingers through his hair again. “We had other things, though. These magnets.” 

“Magnets?” Dean feels like he’s melting, Castiel’s nails scraping lightly across his scalp. He closes his eyes for a moment, absorbing all of the sensations. 

“Mm, yeah. It was called… I dunno, super magic magnet squares or something. It was cool, it had all these little shapes you could stick together. You could build all kinds of shit. Oh, and it had washers and these little metal beads so you could make stuff that actually moves.” Dean likes to think that he was already starting to show some mechanical innovation. Really he just liked trying to stack them as tall as he could, and he was a fan of the soft clicking noise they made when they stuck together. 

“Don’t kids die from swallowing those?” The movie is still babbling softly in the background, but Dean doesn’t care anymore. He thrives having Castiel’s attention focused on him, and if that means they’ll have to watch Batman Forever again, that’s the way it’ll have to be.

“Only if they swallow two.” Castiel laughs softly above him, thumb brushing over Dean’s forehead briefly. 

“What about Sam, was he a big builder too?” Dean blinks his eyes open for just a moment, getting a quick glance at Castiel’s face before he lets them fall closed again. 

“Nah, he was a big nerd. Just sat there and… read all the time.” 

“Dean, can I tell you a secret?” Castiel is going to lull him to sleep like this. He’s nice and warm here. Castiel’s room always has a sweet, warm scent, something that Dean thinks might be vanilla. There’s usually a candle burning on Castiel’s desk but they didn’t light it before they got settled in today. 

“Mmhmm.” 

“I know you read too. I’ve seen your bookshelf. I even catch you reading in class sometimes.” Dean gives a tiny shake of his head, but he’s too content to really argue. 

“Well, you read all the time too. So that means you’re a nerd too. So there.” Castiel laughs again, a soft, welcoming sound. He doesn’t laugh all that often, so Dean feels like it’s an achievement every time he gets him. They fall quiet, Dean feeling like putty under Castiel’s hands. It’s so  _ tender _ , and sometimes that freaks Dean out, but right now he soaks it up. He doesn’t always feel like he deserves anything good, but what Castiel gives him definitely qualifies as really, really fucking good. 

Things had felt pretty rocky for a while. Not just figuring everything out with him and Cas, but school and applications and whatever the hell was going on with Sam. Now, the new term is still ramping up. Applications are in and acceptance letters are a few months out so he can forget about them for a little while. Obviously, with his head in Castiel’s lap and a hand in his hair, things are worked out there. The only piece that still feels up in the air is Sam. 

“What are you thinking about?” Castiel smooths a finger over Dean’s eyebrow, one that he hadn’t realized he was pulling in until now. Dean doesn’t really want to ruin this moment, but Castiel is the one person he feels like he can talk to about this. About anything. 

“It’s just… I’m a little worried about Sam, I guess.” He cracks an eye open again to look up at Castiel, almost smiling when he sees the familiar look of concentration on his boyfriend’s face. “He’s been kind of run down lately. I know we talked about it before, but I feel like it’s only gotten worse since then.” 

“I’ve noticed it as well. He always looks half asleep in debate. I think he did fall asleep the other day, actually.” 

“Did I ever tell you he passed out at practice back in November?” The immediate frown on Castiel’s face is enough of an answer, but he shakes his head as well. “Yeah, they called me and I had to come pick him up.” 

“Not your dad?” There’s a hint of surprise in Castiel’s voice. 

“No, Sam asked for me.” Dean pauses, letting his eyes fall closed again. Castiel’s hand is still moving through his hair, a little slower now, but it feels just as nice. “He told me not to tell Dad or Kate, either. And I shouldn’t have to tell them. They should be able to see it too, right?” Compartmentalizing is something Dean’s found he is remarkably good at. Now that they’ve cracked this conversation open, there’s a heavy weight on his chest. He can’t worry about Sam if he pretends nothing happened, but it’s almost impossible to stop worrying once he starts. 

“They should.” Dean nods, sighing softly. A warm hand brushes his own laying next to his side, and he turns it over so Castiel can lace their fingers together, his other hand still busy in Dean’s hair. “So… your dad doesn’t know at all?” 

“I don’t think so.” Castiel hums softly, going quiet. There’s a tight squeeze on Dean’s hand before he speaks up again. 

“It’s just… the other day when I was driving Sam home, I noticed he has these bruises on his arm. I was worried that it might be… I don’t know, something with your dad.” The memory of his dad’s hand stinging his cheek makes Dean flush lightly. There was no way that was happening to Sam and Dean just hadn’t noticed, right? The possibility makes him feel kind of sick. 

“I dunno, Cas. He’s… Kate keeps telling us he’s doing better.” Dean’s not blind to the beers left stacked by the recliner, the only slightly hushed arguments through the walls. Still, that his dad. For all the problems he may have, Dean likes to think he wouldn’t stoop that low. 

“Maybe you should talk to her about it.” The suggestion turns Dean’s stomach. He’s on thin ice with Kate as it is, he still feels guilty for pulling the ‘not my mom’ card on her. He shakes his head, slowly sitting up. Castiel’s hand slips from his hair, trailing down his back. 

“I’m probably just freaking out over nothing. I’m not used to seeing people work hard, I never did.” An immediate frown takes over Castiel’s face and he shakes his head. Dipping in, Dean catches his lips before he can say anything back. It works for a second, but Cas is soon pulling back, shaking his head again. 

“You do work hard, Dean.” Castiel tries to catch his eye but Dean looks to the corner of the bed, zeroing in on one of the bees on the sheets. “And you can’t just kiss me to distract me, either.” 

“I already talked about enough feelings today, I’m all done.” He’s not ready to deal with this, because he has no clue what to do. It feels so out of his control, he just wants to forget about it for a while, even if that’s selfish. “What if I want you to distract me?” Castiel is trying very hard to keep a stoic expression when Dean looks to him, but he can already see the other’s resolve crumbling.

“Only if you swear you’ll tell me if it gets any worse.” There’s a stubborn set to his lips, just enough to convince Dean he should give a little. 

“Pinky swear.” Dean lifts his hand, pinky sticking out, and Castiel stares for a moment like he doesn’t know what to do with it before hooking his pinky around Dean’s. He studies Dean’s face for a moment before he lets go, shifting towards the head of the bed. 

“Let me distract you, then.” Castiel reaches for Dean, grabbing the front of his shirt and pulling him along as he settles onto his back. Every time that Cas takes the initiative, Dean feels a little like he’s won something. Elbows on either side of Castiel’s head, Dean grins down at him, nudging their noses together. 

“Well?” There’s another moment of Castiel’s eyes searching his face before he pulls Dean down to meet him. His hands end up in Dean’s hair again, sending renewed shivers along his back. It’s warm and soft and easy, and it doesn’t take long for Dean to feel thoroughly, completely distracted. 


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw eating disorder discussion

“I wanna hold the bag.” Samandriel hangs off Castiel’s arm, trying to pry the flimsy handles out of his fingers.

“You’re already holding your present, Mandy.” Castiel isn’t sure what it is. Samandriel had taken an absurdly long box from Anna and insisted on wrapping it himself. He’s hit Castiel with it at least five times on their way over. 

“Anna can hold it,” Samandriel insists, turning to their sister to hold out the box. She gives him a flat look before she rolls her eyes and, sighing dramatically, takes the box. Castiel had talked her into joining them for Dean’s birthday party. Every time she was home alone with their mom, they ended up in another disagreement. Castiel lets Samandriel take the bag from him, watching him skip in front of them up to the door. 

The door is opened remarkably quickly after Samandriel knocks, Adam standing on the other side. He’s got a party hat perched crooked on his head, another in hand, the cheap cardstock crushed in his excited grip. “Finally!” he shouts. Dean’s only a few steps behind, wearing a small smile and one of the hats. Castiel’s heart skips a beat when he sees him, and he wonders if this is what it will always be like. 

“You guys are the last ones here.” There’s a fair amount of chatter in the living room behind him. Castiel can recognize Charlie’s familiar laugh, a little more high pitched than usual. She’d talked about bringing Dorothy with, Castiel can assume that’s what has her so titillated. 

“We brought you presents!” Samandriel thrusts the bag towards Dean, promptly turning to tug the box out of Anna’s hands. “This one is from me and Adam, I promised him I wouldn’t forget it.” Spinning around, he smacks the box into Dean’s leg with a soft thud. At least whatever is inside doesn’t seem to be too heavy, the way Samandriel has been able to throw the box around. 

“Awesome, I’m going to open them in a little while. Sound good?” Samandriel nods, and Adam elbows his way past Dean so he can put the crumpled hat on his head. Dean steps out of the way as Adam grabs Samandriel’s hand and tugs him into the living room, speaking in a rapid, excited voice. 

“Is Gabe already here then?” Castiel questions, stepping in. Anna trails behind him, folding her arms over her chest again. 

“Yeah, and he won’t let me see the cake. He said it’s a surprise. I just hope it doesn’t have a dick on it.” Really, Castiel wouldn’t put it past Gabriel, but maybe since he knows Dean’s family is around he wouldn’t pull that one out. 

“Good luck with that,” Anna mutters, flicking her hair out of her face. She’s got another black streak, this one hanging in front of her eyes. She’d lopped half of her hair off last week, leaving it hanging in an only slightly uneven bob around her face, anything she could do to get under their mom’s skin. Dean laughs, adjusting his grip on the box. 

“Come on, everyone is in the living room.” Dean turns, almost catching the box on the corner of the wall in the process but luckily he’s a little more coordinated than Samandriel. The living room is small and crowded, but it makes Castiel smile to see how many people wanted to be here. Sure enough, Dorothy is settled next to Charlie, a polite smile on her face as she listens to Garth. Castiel hasn’t spent a lot of time with the younger boy, but he knows he likes to talk. There’s a little pile of presents in front of the entertainment center, and Dean adds the two in hand. A stack of party hats sits on the corner of the stand, perfectly placed for Dean to grab one as he straightens up and heads towards Castiel. 

“I have to say, I didn’t think these were really your style.” Castiel doesn’t move, though, letting Dean set the hat on his head, pulling the thin elastic string under his chin. 

“Adam picked them out.” Ah, that makes more sense. Adam does seem to be very excited, he’s got Samandriel in the corner and Castiel doesn’t think he’s stopped talking even to breathe since they got here. “It’s the first time he’s been able to plan for someone’s birthday, Kate always does his and she doesn’t exactly have birthday parties.” A quick glance around the room drives the point home. There’s a few mismatched streamers hanging from the corners and one taped up directly in the middle of the ceiling. A handful of balloons sit in the middle of the room, about half of them actually blown up and the rest only partially inflated. It makes the silly little hat perched on Dean’s head even more adorable, and Castiel is itching to reach out for him. He only just got here, though, he can hold it together for a little while. 

“Anna, do you want a hat?” Castiel questions, looking back at his sister. It’s a distraction, not necessarily a good one, but one that seems to nudge both of them into action. She rolls her eyes at them, but they’ve caught Samandriel’s attention now. 

“You have to wear one! Otherwise you’re a party pooper and that’s gross.” Dean grabs another hat and holds it out to Samandriel. He’s quick to take it, climbing up onto the couch where Anna has found a seat and trying to wrangle it onto her head. She protests, but Castiel knows it’s mostly for show. They all have a soft spot for Samandriel, he gets to do what he wants. Castiel would be tempted to say he’s spoiled, if he didn’t think Samandriel deserved a little special treatment to balance out the drama in the family. 

Castiel doesn’t notice Gabriel’s appeared at his side until he’s reaching over to snap the elastic against Castiel’s chin. He should’ve known, he’s never worn one of these hats without that happening at least once. “You didn’t even say hi to your favorite brother.” Gabriel slings his arm over Castiel’s shoulder, grinning. 

“It’s not your birthday, and I’ve never said that you’re my favorite,” Castiel retorts, but he moves an arm back around Gabriel’s waist and gives him a brief squeeze. Gabriel is the shortest of his older brothers, and they’re just about evenly matched now, and Castiel suspects he might surpass him sooner or later. “I heard you brought a cake.” 

“I did.” It’s a surprisingly short statement. Castiel is surprised to see a pinch of tension on his brother’s face as he glances over, and it takes him a minute to work it out. Gabriel is nervous. He’d offered up the cake, he kept talking about his decorating classes, but talking about what he was learning and showing it off were different. Again, Samandriel rescues them from the beat of silence, racing across the room and throwing himself at Gabriel, wrapping both arms around his legs like he just realized he was there. Castiel smiles softly, making a mental note to make sure next time he drives out to visit Gabe he brings Samandriel with. 

Castiel wanders around to find a spot on the sofa, greeting Benny quietly as he settles down next to him. There’s a handful of kitchen chairs pulled around the coffee table as well to make room for everyone. There’s a recliner that Castiel has only seen John in before that everyone seems to be skirting, whether it’s a conscious choice or not. 

Soon, Adam has Samandriel and Gabriel in hand, dragging them into the circle and instructing them to find a seat. Gabriel takes one of the kitchen chairs, letting Samandriel climb into his lap. “Wasn’t your birthday actually two weeks ago, Dean-o?” Gabriel questions. Castiel’s eyes track Dean as he comes around to find a seat, wedging himself between Castiel and Benny. 

“Yeah, but we had games both weekends.” He shrugs, the movement jostling Castiel’s shoulder a little. “Figured I’m still close enough to turning 19 I could celebrate.” 

“You just wanted me to bring you a cake.” 

“It’s part of celebrating,” Dean replies, grinning. Castiel is pretty sure Dean’s leaning into his side more heavily than he needs to, strictly speaking, but it’s a welcome weight. “Next time you’re bringing pie, though.” 

“Oh, am I your caterer now?” Gabriel questions, eyebrow arched, but he’s not putting any effort into hiding his smile. Dean just shrugs, giving him a grin right back. Castiel doesn’t know how people can look at that smile and not feel like they’re looking directly into the sun, but maybe he’s biased. 

Apparently, along with decorating and supplying party hats, Adam also put himself in charge of activity scheduling. Climbing onto the remaining chair to get everyone’s attention, he puts his hands on his hips, looking surprisingly serious. “We are going to play a game,” he announces, gaze sweeping the room like he’s making sure that everyone is listening. Satisfied, he clambers off the chair and tugs a scroll of paper out from behind the sofa. When he unrolls it, Castiel can immediately recognize the donkey as one of Samandriel’s drawings. It’s kind of adorable, knowing that Adam planned this and got Samandriel in on it too. 

The pointed look he gives Sam reveals Samandriel wasn’t his only partnership. Sure enough, Sam is pushing himself up and pulling out tape and a pack of donkey tails. He helps Adam get the poster up on the wall, pulling out a bandana and turning to Dean. “Birthday boy gets to go first.” Dean rolls his eyes, but Castiel can see the corner of his lips turning up just a little. Sometimes Dean’s so insistent that he can do everything on his own, it’s a relief to see that he has so many people around for him. 

“Shouldn’t I get to watch and strategize?” Dean questions, stopping in front of Sam so his brother can tie the bandana over his eyes. 

“No. It’s your birthday but we all know you’re a cheater.” Dean scoffs, and Castiel is sure he’s rolling his eyes under the bandana as Sam grabs his shoulders and starts to spin him. When he stops, Dean sways ever so slightly on his feet, hands coming out uncertainly in front of him. 

“Wait, I forgot to ask, is there a prize?” 

“It’s a secret,” Adam announces loudly. 

“Since it’s my birthday, do I get two tries?” Dean’s shuffling towards the wall, taking his time. 

“Just finish this try already,” Sam grumbles. Dean’s blind act falters for a moment when he reaches out and swats Sam firmly on the shoulder. Castiel bites back a laugh, watching Dean return to feeling his way towards the wall. Adam is ecstatic, unable to stop from uttering little sounds of encouragement when Dean starts to head the right way, snickering when he goes off track. 

It’s a silly game, one that Castiel has never really understood the concept behind. Pin the tail on the donkey? Why was the donkey’s tail gone in the first place? Why would you be pinning it back on? Castiel’s heard of geckos who can drop their tail when they’re threatened, but he’s pretty sure that donkeys don’t do the same thing. The logical fallacies of the game only distract Castiel for a few moments, though, because Adam is a very enthusiastic host. Dean slings an arm casually around Castiel’s shoulder when he sits back down, and Castiel leans into it. Adam is distracting everyone else, and Castiel is feeling bold, laying his hand on Dean’s knee. 

Everyone takes their turns going up, being blindfolded and spun around. On Gabriel’s turn, he fumbles around until he sticks the paper tail right on Adam’s forehead, which makes him laugh so hard he has to sit down to collect himself. Castiel puts in an honest effort for his turn. Mostly everyone else does something goofy or flails around a little, but Castiel doesn’t feel like he has the comedic timing to pull any of that off. Charlie is declared the winner and Adam delivers her prize, which turns out to be a pretty interesting mini rubix cube. The prizes must have been supplied by Sam as well, who looks chuffed as Charlie and Dorothy break into the packaging and gush about how cute it is. 

Adam has a few more little games lined up for them, and everyone seems happy to play along. Every time Castiel sneaks a glance over at Dean he’s smiling, that big, genuine smile that makes his eyes wrinkle at the corners and brings light to his face. He earns that smile by himself fairly regularly, but he’s happy to see Dean enjoying his birthday so much. 

“Okay, we saved the most dangerous game for last,” Sam announces, pushing the coffee table flush against one of the sofas and starting to arrange the chairs in a circle. “If we break any of these chairs Kate is going to kill us. Or any bones. Actually, please don’t break anything.” 

“I’ve never heard someone give so many warnings for musical chairs,” Gabriel says, grinning when Sam flashes him a vaguely annoyed look. 

“Well, I didn’t want to play, but  _ someone _ insisted, even though he knows he gets competitive. That’s my very subtle way of telling everyone to let Dean win so he doesn’t cry on his birthday.” Dean makes an indignant noise, but Sam ignores him in favor of setting the rest of the chairs up. “Adam and Samandriel, you’re going to be the judges.” Castiel thinks that’s a good call, the rest of them are all fairly evenly matched, but those two could easily be trampled underfoot. 

There’s only six chairs available and eight of them to play, but Anna is quick to opt out, settling into her little corner of the sofa. She’s been reserved most of the afternoon, but Castiel has caught her laughing along with them a few times. Everyone else lines up around the chairs, Dean bumping into Castiel’s side as he takes the spot next to him. It’s obvious they let Dean pick the music, Metallica blaring from the speakers. It’s been a long time since he’s played this, and he feels kind of odd marching around the chairs to the song, but his competitive spirit is alive as well because as soon as it stops he has no shame in diving behind Dorothy to take her chair. 

Charlie has it out for him in the next round, obviously trying to get payback for her girlfriend, but Castiel manages to spin past her and get into the last seat. She smacks his shoulder as she passes, but it’s light and she’s giggling as she moves to join Dorothy on the sofa. They get more rowdy as their numbers dwindle. Benny almost crushes Garth trying to get to his seat, and Gabriel actually trips and falls trying to shove behind Castiel. By the time they get down to one chair, it’s just Dean and Castiel left. Castiel is doing his best not to be too distracted, but it’s hard when they’re circling a single chair and Dean is staring at him with this little smirk that makes Castiel’s heart beat a little too hard. 

To Sam’s credit, he stops the song when they’re pretty evenly on either side, as fair a fight as he can make it. Castiel should have known that Dean’s stillness meant he was up to something, but he’s hopeful maybe Dean just has a soft spot for him and is going to let him win. Instead, he moves a little too confidently towards the chair and is caught completely off guard when Dean’s arms come around his waist, efficiently sweeping him off his feet. He lands in Dean’s lap, which, technically, is in the chair, but Castiel isn’t sure it counts as a win, for the game. It sure as hell doesn’t feel like a loss though, even though his cheeks are burning. Dean’s wearing a smug grin that Castiel wants to kiss off his face so bad it makes him feel like he can’t breathe for a minute. 

It takes a beat too long for Castiel to realize that he’s sitting on Dean’s lap just staring at him while everyone else in the room watches. He stumbles a little as he stands up, and in a mild panic he sticks his hand out awkwardly. “Good game.” Dean studies his hand for a moment before he reaches out to take it. 

“Ah, yes, very good game, sir,” Dean replies with an absolutely awful attempt at a british accent, pumping Castiel’s arm enthusiastically. 

“You’re an ass,” Castiel accuses, but it just makes Dean grin wider. “I’m going to grab a drink. Anybody else want one?” He glances around, and Samandriel raises a hand, imitated by Adam a moment later. 

“I’ll come with you,” Charlie announces, looking a little too chipper as she gets up to trail after Castiel into the kitchen. The room feels incredibly quiet and calm, and as much fun as Castiel is having, this is a welcome reprieve. He pulls open the door to the fridge, crouching to survey their options. He grabs two cans of Sprite for Adam and Samandriel, not sure if Adam has to follow the same ‘no caffeine’ rule that Samandriel does, and a Coke for himself. 

Charlie is standing closer than he expects when he stands up, practically cornering him in against the fridge. “So, did you and Dean start dating before or after Senior Dump?” 

“I- I’m not- We aren’t-” Castiel flounders, searching for an answer, becoming increasingly aware that every second he spends tripping over his words makes it more obvious. “We’re not dating?” he offers weakly, but the glint in Charlie’s eye as she grins at him tells him that he’s definitely caught. 

“You didn’t answer my question.” 

“Dean doesn’t want anyone to know.” It sounds kind of shitty like that, but Castiel can’t take the words back. Charlie, however, looks nonplussed. 

“Y’know, Dean kind of came out to me before winter break.” Castiel’s jaw drops, and Charlie laughs softly. “I haven’t told anyone, but I think you’re an exception, given the circumstances.” There’s a brief flash of jealousy, knowing that Dean told Charlie first, but it’s gone as quickly as it came, replaced instead by something warm. Maybe Dean’s not ready to be out to everyone, but he’s out to someone besides Castiel. It shouldn’t make a difference, but Castiel can’t help but feeling like it makes it a little more real. “You still didn’t answer my question.” 

“Oh. Uh, it was after. Kind of. I mean, we- we kind of kissed there, but we didn’t… nothing official until after.” Castiel’s cheeks are burning again and he’s relieved when Charlie steps out of his way and gives him a little space. He sets the cans on the counter, leaning back against it. He can still hear everyone chattering loudly in the living room, Gabriel’s voice rising up above everyone else a few times. 

“That’s why you guys were being idiots that week.” This time it’s not a question, but Castiel nods his head anyway. Charlie nods back at him, before she turns and crouches to look for a drink herself. “So, how is it going? Everything you hoped it would be?” She’s got a cheeky grin as she straightens with her own can of Coke in hand. 

“I’d like to tell myself I wasn’t that obvious,” Castiel mutters, even though he knows that’s not the case. 

“Seriously, though, how is it?” Charlie’s expression softens a little as she leans on the counter next to Castiel, nudging him with her elbow.

“It’s… really nice. Really, really nice. Dean’s just so sweet all the time and he tries to act like he’s not, but he is, and even though I know that it still makes me feel kind of special when he’s nice to me. He keeps giving me all these little things, he brings me coffee pretty much every morning and he’s shown up at my house with dinner about five times now. Samandriel loves him and he’s never upset when he comes over and Samandriel wants to hang out with us. He always lets Samandriel choose the movie, too. The other day Anna actually came out of her room to talk to him, voluntarily. I think he gave her a CD or something. It’s the only time she’s come out of her room for anything besides school in ages. Last time I drove out to see Gabriel he asked to come with, and we got to hold hands the whole time, and then he volunteered to drive back so I could take a nap.” As he rambles on, Castiel realizes how badly he’s been itching to talk about Dean. He has the best boyfriend he could ever ask for, and it’s kind of infuriating that he has to tamp it down and keep it all to himself. 

Charlie is just watching him with a bemused smile, so Castiel barrels on. “It’s not like everything we do is different now. Actually, it’s really not at all, and I love it. I keep waiting for something to happen but it hasn’t, it just keeps getting better. He’s still my friend, and now we just get to keep adding to that. And he’s  _ so _ cute. I went to his game last weekend and he winked at me before he put his helmet on and I thought I was going to die. I just like him so much, Charlie.” Castiel hides his face behind his hands. He never wanted to admit that he had a crush on Dean in the first place, it’s wonderful to be able to talk about him in the same way he thinks about him all the time. “I like him so much,” he repeats, muffled behind his palms. 

“So it’s going really, really,  _ really _ good, then?” Charlie questions, grinning at Castiel. Warmth rushes to his cheeks as he glances through his fingers at Charlie, but he’s smiling as he nods. “I bet Dean’s going to say the same thing when I force it out of him later.” 

“Hey, it’s his birthday, you should give him a break.” 

“Nope. If he wanted a break he shouldn’t have been making heart eyes at you all day.” Castiel gets so wrapped up in worrying that someone will catch the way he’s looking at Dean he doesn't always notice how Dean is looking at him. His interest is piqued, but to keep up appearances he huffs and shakes his head, dropping his hands and turning to pick up the cans. Charlie laughs as she follows him back into the living room. 

Now that he’s paying attention, Castiel notices Dean’s eyes snap to him as soon as he comes back in the room, the smile on his face growing wider. Castiel delivers the sodas to Samandriel and Adam, perched on the same chair. They’ve all made their way back around the coffee table, and everyone looks pretty settled. Charlie drops herself on Dorothy’s lap, looping an arm around her neck and lifting the can to share. Castiel would be tempted to tease her for it, if he hadn’t poured his heart out in the kitchen only a few seconds ago. 

There’s not really enough room for Castiel on the sofa so he heads for one of the chairs, but as he passes Dean catches the back of his shirt and tugs. “You can sit here,” he insists, patting the arm of the sofa next to him. 

“The chair is fine,” Castiel says, but Dean gives his shirt another little tug and looks up at him through his eyelashes and that’s really all it takes. Castiel settles on the arm, very pointedly not looking at Charlie when Dean pulls his legs over so they’re hanging over one of Dean’s legs, feet dangling between them. Castiel’s breath catches in his throat when Dean looks up at him, grinning and leaving a warm hand on his knee. 

“Are you going to open your presents now?” Adam questions, glancing back at the pile. He looks so excited Castiel would think they were for him if he didn’t know better. 

“I guess it might be time, if you bring them to me,” Dean replies, squeezing Castiel’s leg. Even before they were dating, Dean always had his hands on him, and Castiel was always very aware of it, but now that he knows there’s meaning behind it he has an even harder time pulling his attention away from it. He knows that Charlie is watching now, too, and sure enough when he finally looks up at her she’s watching them with an all-knowing smirk playing on her lips. 

Adam practically launches himself off the chair and zeroes in on the presents. He takes a moment to look them over before he goes for the giant box Samandriel had brought along. Adam hefts it over his head, making everyone duck as he goes by. 

“This one is from me and Mandy,” he explains, managing to only hit Dean in the jaw swinging the box down into his lap. Adam is bouncing on his toes as he watches Dean, beaming. Castiel is curious, too, considering Adam and Samandriel went in on this together and he’s still not sure what would necessitate such a large package. Ripping off the paper, Dean breaks into the gift. It’s easy to see immediately that the box is overkill. 

“Is this one of your comic books?” Dean asks, lifting a packet of papers stapled together out and looking it over. 

“Yeah! We drew you in this one for your birthday, you’re like Batman except you don’t live underground,” Adam explains, leaning over to point at the picture. Again, Castiel recognizes it as Samandriel’s work. Little green dots for Dean’s eyes, and Samandriel even thought to put in the spray of freckles on Dean’s cheeks. 

“I get to be the star of my own comic?” Dean flips through a few pages. Castiel is impressed with the detail each one has, scenes set in the background, characters jumping in and out of panels. 

“We put us in too, see?” Adam stops him a few pages in, pointing to two smaller characters next to Dean’s, one of them flinging around what Castiel thinks is supposed to be a whip made of water. Castiel looks to Dean’s face, grinning at the soft expression there. His brother’s are knocking it out of the park with their gifts. “And Cas,” Adam adds, turning to the next page. Whatever is there makes Dean’s face go red almost immediately. Castiel drops his eyes to it just in time to catch a glimpse of little pink hearts floating up the page before Dean snaps the book closed. 

“I’ll read it later. That’s really- it’s a cool present, thank you guys.” Dean glances up, meeting Castiel’s eyes, his cheeks going just a shade darker before he hands the little book over. “Hold that for me, would you?” he mutters. They weren’t necessarily the most cautious around their brothers and Castiel knows that Adam’s definitely waltzed in on them kissing more than once. He usually doesn’t have much of a reaction, and Castiel had kind of hoped that he didn’t realize what was going on, but it’s looking like Adam picked up on more than they thought. 

Nonplussed by Dean’s reaction, Adam’s already back at the present pile. Dean makes room, tossing the box over the back of the sofa. Castiel recognizes the bag they’d brought as well, biting his lip. He’s not sure that Dean will like his present, or if he’ll just think it’s stupid. Doing something more personal would’ve been preferred, but Castiel knew that they’d be opening presents as a group. “From Castiel N?” Dean looks up from the tag, wearing a smile that always means he has some kind of opinion about something Castiel has done. “Were you worried I’d get you mixed up with all the other Castiel’s that I know?” 

“I’m taking it back,” Castiel says, reaching for the bag, but Dean holds it just out of reach. Castiel stretches for it, but he almost loses his balance, grabbing Dean’s shoulder to keep himself upright. The tuft of tissue paper at the top of the bag is easy to pluck out, and Castiel isn’t surprised when Dean crumples it up and throws it at Sam before he looks inside. 

“No fucking way,” Dean mutters, staring down into the bag for a long moment. “How the hell did you even find this?” 

“The internet is a remarkable place. Apparently somebody else knew what super magic magnet squares meant.” The box Dean pulls from the bag is old, the font and colors lending themselves to a vintage look even though Castiel can’t put his finger on what exactly about it ages it so much. 

“Is that Super Magnashapes?” Sam questions, scooting to the edge of his seat to look at the box closer. “Like Bobby had?” 

“Yeah! I was talking about it the other night. That’s so cool, I haven’t seen this in forever.” Dean’s fingertips trail over the front of the box for a moment, tracing over the little metal bike built in one corner. The knot of tension that had settled in Castiel’s chest waiting for Dean’s reaction has eased. Dean was probably joking when he said he’d still play with it, and Castiel doesn’t expect him to, but he thought it would be fun to find. 

“You’ll have to show me all of your building skills some time,” Castiel says, grinning when Dean looks up at him. It’s quick, but he sees Dean’s eyes jump around his face, landing on his lips more than once before he looks back to the box. 

“Sam is the real expert, he could always build the tallest stuff.” 

“That’s because you can’t build it all on a washer, Dean.” It’s clear this is an argument they’ve had before, and Dean just mutters something under his breath that makes Castiel think the two of them are definitely going to be having a contest later. 

Adam is more than happy to keep ferrying gifts back and forth, stacking the opened ones back by the entertainment stand before bringing back something fresh. Everyone’s gift is thoughtful, from the new Led Zeppelin t-shirt from Benny to the strange amulet Sam was apparently gifting for a second time since Dean had left it behind in the move from South Dakota. Castiel is entertained watching the presents be opened, but more often than not he finds himself just looking at Dean’s face or itching to put his hand over the one Dean casually laid on his knee again. 

“My gift isn’t wrapped,” Gabriel says, watching Adam carry the last present back. “But I’ll go grab it now. Mandy, want to come grab some plates?” Samandriel nods and follows Gabriel into the kitchen, trailing right back out after him a minute later. Gabriel is carrying what Castiel is at first convinced is just a model car, some muscle car similar to the Impala. It’s not until Gabriel sets it down and pushes a candle into the top that he realizes this is the cake. It took Adam a moment as well, but once he notices he’s quick to start singing, waving his arms to cue everybody else in. 

Castiel never knows what to do with himself when people sing happy birthday to him, but he rarely knows what to do in social situations. Dean can put on an air of confidence when he wants to, but right now he’s looking just as uncomfortable as Castiel knows he would feel. It makes Castiel laugh, hand on Dean’s shoulder balancing himself so he can lean in to sing extra loudly in his ear. Once the singing is done, Gabriel brings the cake closer and Dean blows out the candle. “You have to make a wish!” Adam says loudly. 

“I did,” Dean promises, hand squeezing down on Castiel’s leg as he glances up at him with a wry grin. Castiel’s heartbeat stutters in his chest, and Dean just turns back to the cake like he didn’t do anything. “This is so cool, dude, how long did this take you?” 

“I guess altogether it took around eight hours.” Gabriel is brimming with pride, looking down at the cake. Castiel turns his attention to it as well, and he is impressed. There’s imperfections here and there, places where the fondant didn’t lay down just right or the tire that’s turned out at an awkward angle, but it’s really good. He’s seen Gabriel make things before, little cupcakes at home or pancakes in a fun shape, but he knows that his brother must be working hard to come out with something like this. Working for eight hours on a single project wasn’t anything Castiel had heard of Gabriel doing before either. 

“Do you get credit for it or something? Advanced cake class final?” Dean reaches out to turn the plate, looking at the cake from every angle. 

“You should. I’ve never seen something this slick that wasn’t on a baking show.” Benny has edged closer to the table as well. Everyone is entranced by the cake, and Castiel feels a warm rush of gratification seeing how widely it makes Gabriel smile. 

Even well aware what he’s looking at, it’s still bizarre to watch the first easy cut Gabriel makes into the cake. He hands the first slice to Dean, stopping and watching, waiting for him to take a bite. When he does, he lets out an actual groan around it, tilting his head back. 

“This is  _ amazing _ , what the hell is this?” Dean shoves a much bigger piece into his mouth, staring up at Gabriel. 

“It’s a spiced apple cake, soaked in a simple syrup and with a hazelnut cream cheese frosting.” Dean nods enthusiastically, already halfway through his piece. 

“It’s ‘ood,” he says around the next bite. Sam sighs audibly, shaking his head when Castiel looks at him. Gabriel sets to work doling out pieces of the cake. It’s the quietest the room has been since they’ve arrived. Everyone seems as impressed as Dean, tearing into the cake excitedly. The only exception is Sam, who holds up a hand and shakes his head when Gabriel comes around to him. 

“Come on, at least try it,” Gabriel coaxes, practically waving the plate under Sam’s nose. It does smell good, that was one of the first things Castiel noticed when he was handed his piece, and it tastes even better. 

“I don’t like cake.” 

“Yes ‘ou do.” Crumbs spill out of Dean’s mouth and Castiel should probably find that unattractive but he is so far gone that he thinks it’s endearing instead. 

“I drove this cake for a whole hour out here! Live a little, Sam, try some, I promise it’ll change your world.” Gabriel wiggles the plate a little, staring at Sam until he caves, sighing heavily as he takes the plate. Of course, Gabriel isn’t satisfied until Sam takes a bite, grinning as Sam’s eyes widen marginally and he looks down at the plate. “That’s what I thought.” He pats Sam on the back, returning to finish his cake serving duties. 

The room stays relatively quiet as everyone finishes eating. Castiel can practically see the sugar making its way into Adam’s system. Luckily, Samandriel is already helping harness it by offering to collect everyone’s plates, handing them to Adam trailing close behind him. “You know, Dean, you got a game that looks really fun,” Charlie says, grinning. 

“It almost sounds like you just bought me a game that you wanted to play,” Dean accuses. Charlie shrugs her shoulders, glancing back at the pile. 

“It wouldn’t be very cool of me to get you something I didn’t think was fun.” Dean rolls his eyes, pushing gently at Castiel’s legs so he can stand up. He finds the box, dropping it in Charlie’s outstretched hands. It’s something Castiel’s never heard of before, Llamas Unleashed, and there’s a drawing of a unicorn on the side of the box that confuses him even more. 

“I played it at Dorothy’s a few weeks ago, we can explain the rules.” She rips into the plastic on the outside of the box, grinning. “The idea is that you’re building your own farm. It’s more fun than it sounds,” she promises, starting to unwrap the cards inside too. Dean comes back to the sofa and sits, but he doesn’t lean back, staying on the edge of the cushion this time, elbows on his knees as he watches Charlie. She launches into explanation. 

There’s different cards to collect, and action cards, and a lot of puns that Castiel keeps getting stuck on. He’s frowning at one of them (Venti Alpacchiato? What did coffee and llamas have to do with each other?) when Dean shifts next to him, standing up. Castiel almost misses the light brush of his fingers against Castiel’s hand, but he definitely doesn’t miss the little tilt of his head towards the stairs. It’s not exactly subtle, but everyone else seems to be listening to Charlie, so Castiel slides off the sofa and follows Dean. 

“Don’t you think they might notice?” Castiel asks quietly as they approach the bottom of the stairs, grinning as Dean weaves their fingers together, shaking his head. 

“What, we can’t need to run to the bathroom?” 

“Both of us at the same time?” Castiel replies doubtfully, but he’s already starting up the stairs. 

“Well, it’s illegal for me not to get birthday kisses from my boyfriend today,” Dean insists, grinning when Castiel glances over his shoulder at him. 

“Gabriel made a good point earlier, it’s not actually your birthday today.” Castiel stops on the top stair, reaching out to place his hands on the walls, blocking Dean off. “I think we need to head back down until next year.” Dean stares up at him, an eyebrow arched high. 

“You’re a shit.” Castiel shrugs, grinning, watching Dean come up the few steps between them. Castiel expects him to reach out, but he’s taken by surprise when Dean’s arms come around his legs and he hoists him over his shoulder. At some point, he would think he’d get used to this, but every time Dean lifts him up it surprises him again. He grunts softly, twisting his hands in the back of Dean’s shirt as he carries Castiel towards his room. 

“You want to kiss a shit?” Castiel’s voice is rough and uneven, diaphragm crushed over Dean’s shoulder. 

“You want to kiss a shit.” Dean’s hand pushes up the back of Castiel’s thigh. Giddy from finally getting to touch the other, Castiel can’t help the breathless giggle that works its way out of him. He squirms, straining to press a kiss to Dean’s back where he can reach. 

They come to a stop outside Dean’s door, and Castiel picks his head up a little, ready to say something else about Dean being a shit when he sees movement behind the door to the bathroom, only half shut. Dean shifts, and Castiel can see in clearly, watching as Sam pushes his fingers down his throat. The retching noise draws Dean’s attention as well and he swings around a little too fast, hitting Castiel’s head on the wall. 

“Fuck, I’m sorry!” Dean is quick to put him down, and even though there’s a dull ache where his head made contact, Castiel is much more concerned about Sam. They’ve made enough noise he’s noticed them, too, eyes wide when he looks up and sees Castiel staring directly at him. There’s a moment of hesitation, both of them staring, before Sam scrambles to the door. Castiel gets his foot in the way just in time, stopping him from closing it completely. 

“Sam, are you okay?” Spit glistens on Sam’s bottom lip, his eyes watery and red as he stares out at Castiel. 

“I- I didn’t think anyone else would be up here.” Sam’s eyes flicker over Castiel’s shoulder and he shrinks back a little. “I’m fine, you can go back to the party.” The door digs into Castiel’s foot as Sam tries to push it shut again, shaking his head. 

“Were you making-” 

“No! No, I just… Dean, you should go back to the party. Please.” Sam looks like he’s on the verge of tears, glancing over Castiel’s shoulder again. Dean’s lips are pressed into a thin line when Castiel looks back.

“I can stay with him,” Castiel offers softly. He doesn’t know if Sam will let him, but he’s pretty certain Sam knows that he’s been caught. Dean looks torn, until another soft plea comes from Sam. 

“Fine. If you guys aren’t down in 20 minutes I’m coming back up though.” Dean stays in his spot for a moment, looking between them before he starts for the stairs. Castiel reaches out, catching his hand and giving it a gentle squeeze before he turns back to Sam. Silence stretches between them until Dean’s footsteps fade and Sam clears his throat. 

“You saw it?” he questions softly, and Castiel nods. Sam sighs softly, running a hand over his face, slowly stepping back into the bathroom, pulling the door open to let Castiel follow. Slowly, he sinks down, wrapping his arms around his knees and leaning back against the wall. 

“What’s going on?” Castiel takes a seat as well, leaning back against the sink cabinet, frowning as he watches Sam. 

“I… I just had too much cake.” Sam knots his hands into his hair, curling in on himself. 

“Is that something that you do a lot?” Another long silence stretches between them, but Castiel lets it sit, waiting patiently. 

“Not that.” Sam waves one hand at the toilet, not bothering to pick his head up. 

“Dean says you’ve been really tired lately.” Castiel is met with silence again. The smell of vomit hangs in the air, and it’s not exactly comfortable on the tile floor, but he’s concerned for Sam, and that takes priority. Sam’s looked rough lately, but sitting here, it’s even more obvious, his skin stretched taut over his bones. The strands of hair escaping Sam’s grip hang thin and limp, and there’s another bruise peeking out under the edge of his shirt sleeve. “I’ve noticed it too. What’s going on?” 

“Nothing.” Castiel is almost tempted to smile, it sounds so much like Dean. 

“Sam. We’re worried about you, but we can’t help unless you tell us what’s happening.” Sam shifts a little, letting out a wet sniffle from his little cocoon. 

“I can’t… I don’t know, I can’t…” He sniffles again, shifting and turning his face in against his shoulder. “I knew there was going to be cake today, but Dean talked me into eating breakfast, and I wasn’t supposed to eat at all this weekend, but I always fuck it up anyway, It should be something I can be good at, it’s not like school or soccer, I’m the only one who gets to choose but I still ruin it every time.” 

“You  _ are  _ good at school and soccer, Sam. I don’t think I need to tell you that not eating all weekend isn’t a good thing, either.” Castiel frowns, shaking his head. “Are you worried about how you look?” 

“No. Yes. I don’t know! I just… I don’t want to be here. I liked being in South Dakota and we moved at the last minute, and Dean’s going to graduate so he won’t be at the school any more and he might leave and my dad hates me so much he can’t even look me in the face. He doesn’t want me here, I don’t want to be here either.” Sam’s words start to tumble over themselves as he curls in tighter, shoulders heaving. 

“Hey, hey.” Cautiously, Castiel crawls towards Sam, settling on his knees next to him and reaching out to wrap an arm around his shoulders. “That’s so much to deal with. I can’t imagine, Sam. But I know that Dean loves you so much, and he’s always thinking about you. I can’t speak for your dad, but there’s so many of us who care about you.” Sam’s shoulders shake as he sobs again. “I also know that as much as we care, we might not be able to give you the kind of help you need right now, but you do need help. You’re so smart, you’re going to do so much, but you can’t if you’re sick.” 

“I don’t want Dean to know. He’s gonna be so disappointed,” Sam chokes out, shaking his head. 

“He is not, not at all. Asking for help is so hard, and you have to be really brave to do it. He’s going to be proud of you.” Castiel is met with silence, but Sam leans into his side a little more heavily. He waits for the sobs to subside, until Sam’s breathing evens out, before he speaks again. “I don’t want to see you hurting like this either, Sam. You’re my friend. That’s why I’m going to push you to talk to Dean and Kate, okay?” There’s a tiny nod of Sam’s head, and it makes the heavy pressure sitting on Castiel’s chest ease just a little. He’s content to sit there a moment longer, letting Sam work out the last of his tears even as his leg goes numb under him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is late! I worked approximately 24 hours between Saturday and Sunday, hopefully this week goes better!!


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw: eating disorder, discussion of death

The room is uncomfortably bright, large bay windows letting in more sunlight than they need to. Dean’s alone in the room, a room he feels like he shouldn’t be in. The only sound is the noise his jeans make rubbing against the arm of the sofa while his knee bounces restlessly. It’s plush and cushy, warm lamps on either side of him and a coffee table with an array of candles and magazines. It’s obvious they’re trying to make this feel homey and relaxing, but Dean just feels like he’s snuck into a stranger’s house.

Kate has been back talking to Sam and the doctors for what feels like years. Dean looks up at the small cork board on the wall above the fireplace, various pamphlets stuck to it. He’d taken one that said ‘Helping A Loved One Cope With An Eating Disorder’ in bold font across the front, but he hadn’t even managed to convince himself to open it. Instead, it’s been twisted and folded in his hands to the point he’s pretty sure he couldn’t read it if he wanted to. 

Dean had agreed that Sam needed help, and he came with him to talk to Kate and trailed along to the hospital. He just didn’t expect that they’d run a handful of tests and then suggest that Sam stay somewhere. He’s not sure exactly what he thought would happen, but he was hoping it was something more along the lines of just telling Sam how to get better and sending him home. A pill, or some fancy food, something like that. When he really thinks about it, Dean knows that’s unrealistic, but it didn’t stop him from hoping that’s what would happen. 

It doesn’t help that there’s been a heavy pit of guilt settled in Dean’s gut. He thought he was doing Sam a favor by keeping quiet when he passed out, but it’s looking more like that was the wrong choice. The doctors had said something about Sam’s heart being weak, they were even talking about a feeding tube, and Dean can’t help but wonder if he’d just said something before if it would have gotten this bad. Sighing softly, Dean folds the brochure in hand again, twisting it the other way and glancing at the door. He’s never been away from his brother this long. Sam’s been here almost a week and they wouldn’t let Dean see him until today. Now, they’re just making him sit here and wait even longer. 

Dean is ready to throw himself out of his seat when the door finally opens, jumping to attention. “Can I see him now?” Dean has been harassing Kate all week, he knows that, but he’s losing his mind and he couldn’t speak to the doctors directly. 

“Yes, Missouri is going to show you to his room.” The woman standing next to Kate smiles, but it’s just like the room. Warm and welcoming and supposed to soothe Dean’s nerves but instead just puts him more on edge. He nods stiffly, feeling marginally better when Kate squeezes his shoulder as he passes. 

If Dean thought sitting in the waiting area was weird, moving through the rest of the house is even more bizarre. It’s just a house, bigger than anywhere Dean’s ever lived, but the same idea at the core. Little details are what remind him that it’s not a home. None of the rooms have doors, removed from the frame entirely. The furniture in each one is identical, more cork boards above each bed, some of them chock full of pictures and cards and drawings and others completely empty. Dean makes a note to bring something for Sam next time. Most of the people he spots in the rooms are girls, but he’s surprised at the variety in body types. He’d assumed everyone would be a stick, but that’s not the case, and it drives home the point he really doesn’t know anything about Sam’s illness. 

Dean nearly runs into Missouri when she stops, so distracted trying to take everything else in. “Here he is, sugar,” she says, stepping aside so he can see into the room. Sam’s sitting cross-legged on the bed, a pillow clutched on his lap, giving Dean a nervous smile. 

“Hey.” 

“Hey,” Dean answers, taking a tentative step into the room and glancing over his shoulder. 

“Well go on now! I’ll come back to check on you boys in a bit.” The smile she gives this time sits a little easier on Dean’s chest, and he even offers a small one in return before he turns back to Sam. Another beat of silence stretches between them before Dean crosses the room, wrapping Sam in a fierce hug. Dean lets out a soft sigh when Sam finally wraps his arms around him in return, squeezing him back just as tightly. He can feel the knobs of Sam’s spine under his hands, and he squeezes him a little tighter, berating himself again for not noticing earlier. 

“It’s been weird without you at home,” Dean says as he pulls back,dropping himself onto the bed next to Sam. 

“It’s been weird not being at home,” Sam admits with a dry laugh. 

“I’m glad you’re here though. I mean… I’m not glad you’re not at home, but I want you to get better. The doctor told us some shit that really scared me.” It’s hard for Dean to admit, but it was harder listening to someone tell him Sam could die if he didn’t get better. The thought makes his stomach twist with panic. Dean can’t even imagine moving away to go to college, losing Sam forever is incomprehensible. 

“I know, I’m sorry.” 

“You don’t have to apologize. Just… I’m glad you said something and we could get you help before it was too late.” The words hang heavy between them. Dean itches to pull away from it, even though he knows that Sam needs to hear it. “Bobby would kick my ass if we let you die out here, you know?” Sam scoffs softly, but it works to lighten the mood a little. 

“He’d probably bring me back to life just so he could kill me himself.” Sam goes quiet for a moment, glancing over at Dean from the corner of his eye. “Did you tell him?” 

“Yeah, I called him the day after you were admitted. I think he’s already sending a care package, but it might have a stink bomb in it.” Finally, Dean gets a little smile from Sam, even though he’s obviously trying to hold it back. 

“I’ll make sure I open it outside.” 

“If it doesn’t have one I’ll make sure you get one, how does that sound?” 

“Sounds like you’re an ass,” Sam replies, shoving at Dean’s shoulder. 

“Well yeah, I didn’t want everything to change while you were in here.” Sam rolls his eyes, a little smile still on his lips. “What’s it like here?” Dean didn’t take much time to look around the room when he came in, too focused on beelining for Sam, but now he takes a moment. The other bed is messy and unmade, and the corkboard above it has a lot of pictures, the same boy with dark hair and even darker eyes in all of them. 

“That’s Colin, he’s my roommate. We’re the only guys here. It’s weird, but everyone is really nice. Someone has a breakdown pretty much every day at one of the meals, but we all get it. It was me yesterday,” Sam admits, looking sheepish. “But they let me take a few minutes before I had to come back and finish eating. Missouri sat with me the whole time, she can be really funny. She’s probably my favorite nurse- uh, assistant here. We’re not supposed to call them nurses.” 

“I didn’t expect it to be just a house,” Dean comments, looking around the room again. The closet doesn’t have doors on it either, and he can recognize a few of Sam’s shirts hanging in it. “Why’d they take all the doors away?” 

“They don’t trust us. I mean, lots of eating disorders end up with people being really secretive. Hiding food or laxatives or vomit, so they’re trying to make sure we don’t have room to do that.” Sam shrugs, picking a piece of lint off the corner of his pillow. 

“Oh.” Dean looks down at the crumpled pamphlet in his hands, wondering if he should grab another one on his way out and actually read it. 

“It’s not as bad as I thought it was going to be.” Sam recrosses his legs, pulling the pillow up against his chest so he can rest his chin on it. “It’s hard, but everyone is understanding. Even the counselors, they’ll just sit with you for the hour if you don’t feel like talking.” 

“I’m really glad to hear that.” Dean had an image in his head, something clinical and horrible, Sam stuck in padded white rooms with vile nurses, like the shit he saw in horror movies. Dean is still distinctly uncomfortable here, but knowing that Sam’s settling in a little makes him feel better about it. “Adam misses you, he’s sending a card next week. Maybe I can talk Kate into letting him visit.” Dean had been on the side of keeping Adam away from this place, but now that he’s here he thinks maybe it wouldn’t be so bad for him to see. 

“I miss him too. I miss you and Kate and sleeping in my own room.” Sam sighs softly, shaking his head. “I bet Dad is pissed as hell. Kate won’t tell me, every time I ask she just tells me not to worry about it.” 

“He’s… not happy about it,” Dean admits. He doesn’t want to lie to Sam, and even if he did he knows his brother would see right through him. 

“He’s never happy with me,” Sam says. “I’m not sure if he’ll let me come home after this. I know he didn’t want us- he didn’t want me to come back in the first place.” 

“Sam, that’s not true. He’s just not good at dealing with it, I know he loves you though.” It’s an argument they’ve had several times, but he’s never heard Sam sound quite as defeated as he does right now. Sam goes quiet, biting his lip and staring down at his hands for a long moment. 

“You know he blames me for Mom, right?” Sam questions softly. Dean’s chest tightens and he frowns, shaking his head a little. 

“What do you mean?” 

“It’s my- it’s my fault that she died.” Sam swallows thickly, shifting and hugging the pillow in closer to his chest. “And I know you wouldn’t ever say it to me but I worry that you might blame me for that too. I’d understand, it is my fault.” 

“Sammy, what are you talking about? You were a baby, how could it be your fault that Mom died?” They don’t talk about their mom very often, and Dean knows that Sam didn’t like to, but he had no idea that Sam was carrying so much guilt for something that wasn’t even true. 

“Dad told me. She would have started chemo if she wasn’t pregnant with me, and then by the time she did start it was too late.” It takes a moment for Dean to actually process what Sam is saying, the frown on his face deepening. 

“It was Mom’s choice. Even if she was thinking about you when she made it, that doesn’t make it your fault.” Dean’s heart aches for his brother. How did he never know this was something that Sam thought? No wonder he was always trying to prove himself to Dean. “What do you mean that Dad told you?” He already knows he’s not going to like the answer, but he has to ask. Sam shifts a little, reaching up to push a hand through his hair. 

“It was a couple years ago. Before he was living with Kate and he’d come by drunk sometimes. He showed up one night and you and Bobby were out working on a car so he came in and it was just us. At first he was saying that I looked like Mom and I reminded him of her. That wasn’t that bad, it was kind of nice, actually. He never really talked to me by myself, and I liked the idea that I could be like Mom, you always said so many good things about her. But then he… he started crying, and he pulled out his flask. Looked me right in the eyes and said that if it wasn’t for me, he’d still have her.” Sam’s voice wavers and he reaches up to wipe at his eyes. “He said he begged her to start treatment. It wouldn’t be any good to have another kid if they weren’t going to have a mom, but she wouldn’t do it. Because of me.” 

A wave of rage washes over Dean, so sudden and aggressive he thinks for a minute he’s going to put his fist through the wall. How could John say that to Sam? How could he even think that? Taking a few deep breaths, Dean closes his eyes, trying to calm himself down. He doesn’t want Sam to think he’s mad at him, when it’s the exact opposite. “I had no idea,” he says, slowly opening his eyes. “That’s- He never should have said that.” 

“It would’ve been so much better if he just silently hated me, wouldn’t it?” Sam replies bitterly. 

“No! No, Sam, he shouldn’t have said it because it’s not true. It’s not like you had any control in the situation.” Dean curls his hands into the legs of jeans to stop their shaking, taking another deep breath. “There’s no way it could be your fault. Besides, even if Mom had decided to start treatment the day she found out, it might not have made a difference in the end. Lung cancer just fucking sucks.” 

“You really don’t blame me?” 

“Of course not!” Dean feels vaguely sick thinking that Sam could have ever imagined that. He misses his mom, he hates that she’s dead, but he’d never put the blame on someone who wasn’t even born yet. “Look, I know that we’re not always on the same page about Dad, but what he said was completely out of line. I don’t have an excuse for him and I’m not going to try and find one. I wish I would’ve known that he said it then.” Sam makes a small sound next to him, letting go of the pillow and moving to wrap his arms around Dean instead. It’s a little bit of a surprise to feel warm tears soaking through the shoulder of his shirt, but Dean hugs Sam a little harder in response. “I love you,” he mutters, pressing a kiss to Sam’s temple. It’s not something they say to each other often, but Dean knows that they both need it right now. 

“I love you too, Dean,” Sam mutters, sniffling softly. 

“Cool. Now stop before you get snot on my shirt.” Sam huffs out a weak laugh, sitting back and wiping a hand over his eyes. 

“Jerk.”

“Bitch.” Dean grins and Sam rolls his eyes, shaking his head.

“Our lives have kind of sucked,” Sam says after a moment, leaning back against the head of the bed and closing his eyes. “Bobby is great, and Kate has been really nice, but sometimes it feels like we’re destined to struggle.” 

“We’re not. You are so smart, Sam, you’re going to go out there and change the world. Even if you don’t want to, you still deserve to be happy. If that’s being a little nerd and reading and arguing with people about policies or whatever, then that’s what you should do.” There’s one thing Dean has always believed in, and that’s Sam. Finding out he was sick and hurting didn’t make him believe in him any less. 

“You just couldn’t pass up calling me a nerd, could you?” Sam accuses. 

“Hey, it’s not a bad thing. You’re a nerd, you’ve got to own it at some point,” Dean replies, wincing when Sam hits him in the face with his pillow. 

“You’re such an ass.” Sam pulls the pillow back before Dean can get his hands on it. “You know, you deserve to be happy too. You never do anything for yourself.”

“I do stuff for myself all the time!” Sure, maybe Dean likes to put his family first sometimes, and he’s made some sacrifices, but he isn’t as selfless as Sam tries to make him sound. 

“Basic daily needs don’t count, Dean. You were ready to stop your whole birthday party for me. I’m glad Cas talked you out of it, it didn’t make any sense to kick everyone out and make yourself miserable, and we still figured all this out an hour later.” If Cas hadn’t been on Sam’s side, there’s no way Dean would have been convinced, but he trusted Castiel. If he said that Sam was going to be alright while they finished off the day, then Sam would be alright. 

“Don’t worry about me. Just worry about getting better.” 

“I can get better and worry about you at the same time. I know you never talk to anyone when stuff is bothering you.” It’s true, and Dean knows it’s true, but this year has actually been different. Dean doesn’t get all wishy washy with his feelings all the time, but Cas will listen when he needs him to.

“I talk to people sometimes,” he says, looking down when Sam gives him a very pointed look. Dean still hasn’t told anyone about Cas. Charlie had tried to get something out of him on his birthday but he skirted it worrying about Sam. Adam and Samandriel knew something, but Dean isn’t sure they really understand dating. But Sam wouldn’t tell anyone, and maybe it would help ease his apparent concern for Dean. 

“Telling people dick jokes doesn’t count,” Sam insists. “You have to actually talk to them about your feelings, things like that.” 

“I’m dating Cas.” It comes out all as one word, and Dean can see Sam taking a moment to parse out what he said, a grin spreading slowly across his face. 

“I knew it!” Sam shouts, pumping his arms over his head. “I  _ knew _ it! I thought I caught you guys holding hands the other night.” Dean’s cheeks go pink and he shakes his head, even though he can remember the moment clearly. He’d come out to the car earlier than Dean thought he would, they’re lucky the only thing Sam saw was their hands. 

“Alright, alright, don’t look so smug about it,” he gripes, but he can’t stop himself from smiling when he thinks about Cas. 

“That’s so cute! Poor Cas, I don’t know how you talked him into dating you.”

“Stop, I didn’t have to talk him into it!” 

“Sure you didn’t, Castiel just volunteered to put himself through hanging out with you all the time. I thought he was smarter than that,” Sam teases, grinning wider than Dean’s seen since he got here. 

“That’s it, you little punk.” Dean yanks the pillow out of Sam’s hands, leaving him grasping for it while he begins his assault. Laughing, Sam tries to tackle him, turning it into the kind of aimless wrestling match they used to have all the time in Bobby’s yard. Dean feels his first spark of genuine hope that things might get back to normal. 

***

The backpack hangs on Dean’s shoulders, feeling awkward. He never brings it into Castiel’s, it rarely makes it out of the car. There was one day where Cas had managed to talk him into trying to do homework together, but that hadn’t lasted very long. Dean knows how to be very annoying when he needs to be. He adjusts the straps of the bag, taking a deep breath before he pushes the door open, not bothering to knock. As usual, it’s quiet inside. Dean’s ran across Castiel’s parents only a handful of times, and they usually don’t pay much attention to him. He heads right for Castiel’s room, smiling when he passes Anna’s door and hears the grungy beat of Metallica. 

Dean does knock when he gets to Castiel’s door, but he doesn’t wait for a response before he pushes it open. Castiel is curled up in the corner of his bed, a book in hand, one blanket around his shoulders and another draped over his legs, both of which are tossed aside so he can scramble out of the bed. “You’re here early!” Castiel says, rushing in to wrap his arms around Dean’s neck and tug him into a kiss. 

“Hello to you too,” Dean murmurs, grinning as he wraps his arms around Castiel’s waist. He loves how excited Castiel always is to see him, especially considering he has the same exact reaction. 

“What’s this?” Castiel slides his hand down to the backpack. “I already told you I’m not writing your essay for you.”

“What’s the point of dating a big nerd, then?” Dean questions, grinning as he squeezes Castiel closer. The last week has been draining and stressful, worrying about Sam and wondering how he was settling in. Visiting was helpful, but Dean still carried that concern with him. There’s a weird tension at home. Adam doesn’t fully grasp what’s happening, he doesn’t understand why Sam has to stay somewhere else, and Kate and his dad are fighting more than ever. He’s given himself the whole afternoon with Castiel, the one place he feels like he can really relax.

“You’re not dating me because I’m a nerd, you’re dating me because you like to kiss me.” Dean could deny it, but he’d be wasting his breath. Instead, he dips down, proving Castiel’s point with a long, warm kiss, starting to nudge him back towards his bed. Castiel’s knees hit the bed and he drops onto it. He can’t help but grin when Castiel reaches out for him, shaking his head. 

“Hold on,” Dean chides, shrugging the backpack off and setting it next to his feet. There isn’t any reason he should be nervous, but he is, throat going dry and any speech he thought he had prepared slipping from his mind. Instead of trying to find the words again, he kneels next to the backpack and unzips it, giving Cas a nervous glance before he pulls out a colorful bouquet.

“Flowers?” Castiel questions, looking between the bouquet and Dean’s face, face scrunching in confusion. 

“Yeah. They’re… uh, they’re for you.” Dean straightens, holding them out. “Because… y’know, it’s Valentine’s Day. And I’m not usually into that kind of stuff but this is the first year I’m with someone that really matters. All the shit at the store is like this too, I didn’t know if I was supposed to get you something different or nothing, but it seemed wrong to get you nothing. They’re lilies, I think, even though I know that roses are, like, the romance flower or whatever, but I thought these looked different and you’re different. If you don’t like the flowers though, you don’t have to keep them, I wouldn’t-” He hadn’t noticed Castiel moving, cut off abruptly by his lips. At first, he wants to pull away, keep rambling through his explanation, but he finally catches on that the way Cas is kissing him he might not need to explain. 

“They’re perfect.” Castiel pulls back, looking down and gingerly talking the flowers from Dean’s hands. Dean would be tempted to question it if it wasn’t for the look of pure joy on Castiel’s face. He’d always thought flowers and cheesy romantic gifts like that were pointless, but seeing Cas absolutely beaming he can understand it now. There will be flowers every single day if that’s what Cas wants. Maybe he’d even be brave enough not to smuggle them in after a while. 

“I have a card, too, but you can read it later. Please.” He can’t stand just sitting there watching someone else read his words. Reaching back into the backpack, Dean retrieves a red envelope. Most of the cards were too over the top for him, so he’d resorted to the kids cards. The pun on the front is far from original (Bee Mine!), but Dean had to grab a card before he lost his nerve. 

“Thank you.” Castiel takes the card, pushing up on his toes for another quick kiss before he’s pulling away and ducking around Dean. He returns without the flowers, but a small box with a bow on top instead. “I got you something too.” Considering Dean showed up with a gift, and it  _ is _ Valentine’s day, maybe he should have expected it, but he spends a few long seconds just staring at the box in shock. The only thing he can ever remember getting for the holiday was a tiny card from Sam with a lollipop taped to the side. 

“Can I open it?” Dean questions, lifting the box from Castiel’s hands. It’s light, but it could be empty and just the box would still be the best gift Dean’s ever gotten on Valentine’s day. 

“Of course.” Castiel is the one who looks nervous now, shifting his weight back and forth between his feet while he watches Dean rip through the tape and pull the box open. A bracelet lays inside, long black beads interrupted with little white and brown circles at random. It’s not until Dean looks closer that he realizes that they’re little skull shapes, and there are vague suggestions of faces carved into the black beads between them. “Gabriel has a friend, she has a shop that has all kinds of things like this. She told me that this one is supposed to bring strength and peace. It also looks kind of cool, I thought.” 

“It’s awesome,” Dean says, picking it up and turning it over in his hands. 

“I also thought it would be nice if you had something you could wear that made you think of me. I get to steal your hoodies all the time.” It’s true, Dean’s pretty sure more of them live at Castiel’s house than his own now, but he doesn’t mind. 

“That’s really cheesy.” As he says it, Dean slips the bracelet over his hand, admiring where it sits snug on his wrist. 

“You’re the one that brought me flowers,” Castiel retorts, reaching for Dean’s hand and lifting it up, examining the bracelet. “Do you like it?” 

“I guess it’s alright.” Castiel looks hurt for a moment, until Dean grins and pulls him in, kissing him softly. 

“That kind of alright?” 

“Mhmm.” Dean drops the now empty box into his bag, freeing his hands to wrap around Castiel’s waist, hugging him in close. 

“Happy Valentine’s day, then.” Castiel’s arms come just as tight around Dean, face pressed to his shoulder. 

“Happy Valentine’s day,” Dean agrees, dropping his chin to Castiel’s shoulder and closing his eyes. Every day, he’s surprised by just how good it feels to be with Cas. Not just when they’re making out or swapping gifts, but just being close to him puts Dean at ease. The handful of times Castiel has talked his way into reading while they’re spending time together, just sitting next to him in silence brings Dean more peace than he thought possible. 

Castiel starts to tug them back, pulling away so he can climb onto the bed, but he’s quick to grab Dean and guide him in as well. How Dean survived this year without getting his hands on Cas he has no idea, he’s so enamored. Castiel gets himself propped up in the corner again, and Dean settles against his chest. Warm arms wrap around him, hugging him in close, and Dean can practically feel any tension remaining drain out of him. 

“Hey, you got to visit Sam yesterday, yeah?” Dean nods, toeing off his boots and letting them fall to the floor next to the bed before he pulls the blanket up over them. 

“Yeah. I’m glad I got to see him, but it’s weird there. They have no privacy.” His hands settle on Castiel’s arms, giving a gentle squeeze as he rests his head back against Castiel’s shoulder. 

“I suppose that is to be expected,” Castiel muses. “They’ve got to keep an eye on them to make sure that they’re keeping with all the rules and everything.” 

“I guess, it would just drive me crazy. Sam seems like he’s doing okay, though.” Their conversation hasn’t left Dean’s thoughts since they had it, sitting heavy on the back of his mind. Confronting John was something he felt like he should do, but he hadn’t worked himself up to it yet. 

“What else?” Castiel prompts, arms coming a little more tightly around Dean. He doesn’t know how Cas can always tell when there’s a few extra thoughts swimming around in his head. Sighing softly, Dean closes his eyes, rolling his head back against Cas’ shoulder. 

“Sam told me about some shit our dad said. Apparently a few years ago he told Sam it was his fault Mom died.” The words taste bitter coming out of Dean’s mouth, he hates speaking them into existence again. He can feel Castiel tense behind him, 

“Are you serious?” Dean wishes he could say no, that of course their father wouldn’t say something so cruel, but he believes Sam. He knows that their dad can be an asshole when he’s drinking, and even if he didn’t say exactly what Sam thought, whatever he said was still awful enough to make Sam feel that way. 

“Yeah. I knew Sam didn’t want to come live with Dad, but I didn’t know it was this bad.” Dean sighs quietly again, squeezing Castiel’s arm when the other presses a kiss into his hair. Sometimes, when he’s alone, he still has moments of panic about this. His sexuality, and what people would think, and what his dad would say. When he’s with Cas, though, it feels so right he can’t even start to question it. 

“Have you talked to Kate about it?” Castiel was the one who nudged Sam and Dean into talking to Kate after the party. It’s proven to be a good idea, but Dean still hesitates coming to her with this. 

“I’m kind of hoping that one of the counselors will bring it up to her or something. They’re already yelling at each other every night, I don’t want to make it worse.” 

“It’s like you said before, you shouldn’t have to be the one to do it,” Castiel points out softly. It feels selfish to agree, but Dean shouldn’t have to be the one to do it. He’s been taking care of Sam his whole life, but he shouldn’t have to. 

“Oh! There was something good, though.” Dean cracks his eyes open, trying to look at Castiel while still very snugly curled up to him. “I told Sam about you.” 

“Sam already knows who I am.” It’s such an innocent and thoroughly Castiel way to reply that Dean can’t help but laugh, tilting his head to press a kiss to Cas’ jaw. 

“I told him about  _ us _ . That we’re dating.” 

“Oh!” There’s the reaction Dean was looking for. “What did he say, how did it go?” 

“Mostly he just said ‘I knew it,’ but he was happy for me, too.” Dean hadn’t even realized until this moment that Sam hadn’t brought anything up about the fact Castiel is not a girl and he’d just gone with it. 

“I thought he might have.” Dean sits up a little and twists, frowning. 

“What? Why?” 

“Dean.” Castiel is wearing a small smile, reaching out to run a hand through Dean’s hair, which, as usual, sends shivers down his spine. He has to stop doing that, Dean can never focus. “You do realize Sam practically coerced me into coming to your house, right? He spends a lot of time with both of us, and he’s very smart.” Dean tries to keep frowning, but Castiel’s hand trails down his neck a little ways and he forgets what he’s supposed to be frowning about. 

“I guess…” he mutters, turning towards Cas, straddling his leg as he sits back on his knees. “You think anyone else knows?” 

“Charlie. She asked me about it at your birthday. I didn’t mean to tell her but she wouldn’t back down, you know how she is. I was going to tell you, I promise, but everything else happened, I kind of forgot,” Cas admits sheepishly. For a second, Dean’s chest goes tight, hit with the realization that somebody else knew. It doesn’t last long, though, he’d already told Charlie he wasn’t exactly straight. She was always giving them that look, like she knew something they didn’t. 

“I should have known,” Dean huffs, dropping his forehead to Castiel’s shoulder. 

“We can try harder to keep it to ourselves, if you don’t want people to know.” Thinking of other people knowing he’s dating Cas makes Dean feel a little panicky and flighty, but it’s nothing compared to the crippling disappointment that hits when he tries to imagine distancing himself from Castiel. 

“You’re just saying that because you don’t want to hold my hand when it gets sweaty,” Dean replies, turning his head so he can nose against Castiel’s neck. 

“It’s not my fault you sweat more than any other human being I’ve ever met,” Castiel gripes, hands landing on Dean’s hips, head tilting back ever so slightly in what Dean is taking as an invitation. 

“Now I’m never going to stop holding your hand, you walked right into that one Novak.” Grinning, Dean presses a line of kisses up the side of Castiel’s neck. 

“Well too bad because…” A muscle jumps under Dean’s lips as Castiel swallows thickly. 

“Because?” Dean knows what he’s doing here. It didn’t matter if he was kissing a boy or a girl, if they start going speechless while he’s tracing a vein up and down their neck with kisses, he’s going to keep doing it. 

“Because you are… Ugh, I dunno,” Cas mutters, his head dropping back until it makes a soft thud against the wall, fingers pressing into Dean’s hips lightly. “Really good at that.” The compliment warms Dean through and he wiggles forward, grasping the front of Castiel’s shirt as he settles in. 

“I guess I can forgive you for telling Charlie.” It’s really not a surprise she’d figure it out, and if Castiel was going to try and spread gossip, he probably wouldn’t choose Charlie to start. He nips lightly at Castiel’s skin, a pleased noise from the other buzzing against his lips. Another, sharper nip gets Castiel’s hands to grip him even more tightly, and when he lets his tongue flick out to taste Castiel’s skin he earns a soft gasp and one of Castiel’s hands migrating to his hair. He settles there for a moment, working a bruise into Castiel’s skin, soaking up every noise and movement the other makes. 

He’s teasing a little, and he knows it, but he’s surprised when Castiel huffs impatiently and tightens his hold on Dean’s hair, tugging him up and crushing their lips together. Dean’s made out with his fair share of people, but he can’t remember anyone ever making his heart beat so hard with something so simple. He’s disappointed when Castiel pulls away, but he takes advantage of the moment to try and get his breathing back to normal. 

“I really like you,” Castiel breathes, hands moving to frame Dean’s face. 

“Yeah? I had no idea.” Castiel doesn’t even bother to try and look annoyed with the quip. He’s just starting, looking over Dean’s face with a gaze so intense that having it focused all on him is almost too much. 

“You’re… I’m in…” Castiel trails off, eyebrows pinching together before he shakes his head and pulls Dean back in. “I really like you.” His breath is warm against Dean’s lips, soon replaced by his lips instead, and Dean is more than happy to reciprocate. 

Hours later, Dean tiptoes into his house, lips chapped and burning and feeling a little bit like he’s flying. There’s a stab of guilt when he passes Sam’s empty room, but he pushes it aside, clinging to the high that he’s riding. He’s been away for Cas for all of 15 minutes, but there’s already a text waiting for him once he settles on the bed. 

**Cas:** I’m reading your card.

**Cas:** You spelled magnificent wrong. 

**Cas:** You have a card, too. Check your bag.

Arching an eyebrow, Dean stretches over to grab his backpack, unzipping it. A familiar red envelope sits inside, the primary difference being Dean’s name scrawled across the front. He takes far more care opening it than he would ever admit, stopping and staring in surprise at the front of the card. 

**Dean:** No way 

**Dean:** i should have known you would pick this card too 

**Dean:** dork ❤️

The same cartoon bee he’d sealed up hours ago grins up at him before he can open the card. It’s kind of hilarious, but some part of Dean is thrilled that they’re so in sync. 

An hour later, laying with the card under his pillow, Dean starts to wonder if this is what it felt like to fall in love. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fellas is it gay to buy your boyfriend flowers for valentine's day asking for a friend


	17. Chapter 17

It’s been too long since Castiel came to a game. They coincide with debate meets often, and the last time it didn’t his parents were dragging him out for a spring break trip. Before he knew it they were at the semi-finals and Dean was begging him to come watch. Well, he didn’t have to beg much. Really, all he had to do was look at Castiel and ask and he was on board. Castiel, however, had to do a bit of begging to convince Balthazar to come with him. Watching Dean is fun, but games could push over two hours and it was better if he had someone around to chat with. 

“This may be the most barbaric sport,” Balthazar comments with a wrinkle of his nose, people a few rows in front of them cheering as one of the players is crushed against the wall. 

“All sports are kind of violent, aren’t they?” It’s a relief that Cole isn’t out there with Dean. He’d refused to apologize and apparently the coach decided if he couldn’t get along with people on the team then he didn’t need to be a part of it at all. 

“Not quite like this. In fact, most of them have rules against touching each other.” Balthazar had been quietly complaining the whole time they’d been here, but Castiel knows better than to take any of it to heart. It’s just what Balthazar liked to do. He knows that Balthazar is still a little wary of Dean, too. Castiel’s done his best to reassure him that Dean isn’t stringing him along and he’s not going to get his feelings hurt, but it’s hard to convince him without saying too much. 

The way he’s sitting here staring at Dean probably doesn’t help either. He can’t help it, Dean is good at what he does down on the ice. Castiel doesn’t understand all the rules, but he knows that Dean’s scored a few points and that he moves so fast that Castiel can lose track of him before he zeroes back in on the bright red 52 painted on the back of his jersey. Sam had been the one to tell Castiel that Dean always chose it for Sam’s birthday, May 2nd, and Dean had gone red and tried to deny it so quickly that Castiel couldn’t think it meant anything else. 

Having Sam in treatment has been stressful for Dean, Castiel knows that. True to his character, he tries to say it’s not that bad, making jokes about it every chance he gets, but Castiel is smarter than that. He misses Sam too, though obviously not as much as his family. Dean usually brought Adam over when he came to visit, and he’d go work on his comic with Samandriel while Castiel tried to hold his boyfriend’s hand without anyone seeing. Castiel had tried to point out that Samandriel had already drawn them holding hands in Dean’s birthday present, but he didn’t want to make him uncomfortable either. 

Dean cuts across the ice, dragging the puck along with him. It only took a few games to realize why Garth was an asset on the team, the way he can duck between everyone else, popping up just in the right place for Dean to hit the puck to him so Garth can shoot it into the goal. They high five as they circle back, and Castiel is pretty sure Dean’s helmet tilts towards the stands for a second before he’s joining the huddle. 

“Cassie, that buzzer just went. That means it’s a break time, right?” Balthazar questions, perking up a little. “I’m famished, and you promised you’d provide me snacks if I came and sat through this.” Castiel throws a glance at the clock, smiling a little and nodding. 

“What do you want?” 

“Do they have popcorn? No, that’s too greasy. What about… nachos are so messy, and the napkins here are always so coarse,” Balthazar muses, frowning. With a small roll of his eyes, Castiel digs his wallet out of his pocket and presses a few bills into Balthazar’s hand. 

“I’m sure the snack stand supervisors can address all of your nutritional concerns,” he says flatly, while Balthazar beams, practically jumping up. 

“You’re the best, love!” Castiel is pretty certain this means Balthazar will be gone for most of this period, and he always has something to say when he comes back, but Castiel really is grateful for the company. It’s good timing for Balthazar to be absent anyway, because Dean slides over to the bench and tugs his helmet off and a quiet noise comes out of Castiel he didn’t entirely mean to make. It reminds him of the first time he saw Dean after a practice, leaning against his car all tousled, sweats hanging low on his hips, and that especially sweet little smile reserved only for Sam on his lips. He’d seemed so unattainable that day, and Castiel felt wrong for even wanting. He had no idea that just a few months later they’d be here. 

As expected, the game starts up again before Balthazar is back. Castiel offered to give Sam updates, so he busies himself with that when he’s not watching Dean. He’s working harder than he had to at some of the other games that Castiel had come to. It makes sense, it’s semi-finals after all, but the score keeps tipping back and forth between the two teams. Balthazar comes back just in time to see Benny and the coach shouting at the referee while the rest of the team nurses the nosebleed of the kid who’d gotten elbowed in the face. 

“Barbaric, I told you.” Balthazar is balancing several items as he sits down, arranging them across his legs. 

“I thought you said popcorn was too greasy,” Castiel comments, reaching over to take a piece from the top of the bag. 

“A man can grow when presented with new information.” 

“So there was a cute boy working the stand, that’s what you’re telling me,” Castiel replies, arching an eyebrow. 

“If all his phone number cost was a bag of this god forsaken popcorn, I think it is well worth it.” Balthazar takes a piece as well, almost immediately making a face and thrusting the bag at Castiel. 

“What happened to Henri?” The popcorn really isn’t very good, but when it’s in front of him Castiel keeps cycling pieces into his mouth. 

“I’m allowed to have options,” Balthazar replies. “Much like you. We’re here ogling a hockey player but you’ve had a new hickie every week.” The already dry popcorn sticks in Castiel’s throat and he coughs, hoping that’s enough to explain why his face goes red. 

“I told you, it wasn’t a hickie.” 

“Right, what was it that you said?” Balthazar questions, picking up one of the candy bars he’d brought back and tearing the wrapper open. “You pinched yourself with a book. Twice. On your neck. Apparently very hard. You know, I don’t think I’ve ever heard of another person doing that.” If Balthazar’s eyebrow goes any higher it’ll be in his hair. Castiel ducks his head, looking guiltily out to the ice, watching Dean and the opposing center shoving shoulder to shoulder as they push towards the goal. 

“Just because you haven’t heard of it doesn’t mean it can’t happen,” Castiel mutters, crushing a piece of popcorn between his fingers. 

“Right. And I also don’t have any clue what a hickie looks like,” Balthazar replies, rolling his eyes. “You can keep your little boyfriend a secret if you want, but I know you have one.” 

“You’re the worst,” Castiel gripes, slumping back in his seat. There’s a part of him that does feel guilty for keeping this from Balthazar. They’ve been friends for years, and he’s Castiel’s best friend outside of Dean. Being so close means that Castiel is well aware that secrets that go to Balthazar don’t manage to stay secrets very long. It’s not that he has any malicious intent, he just loves to talk, and things come out before he thinks them through. Castiel has seen it happen, the moment when Balthazar realizes he’s spit out something he shouldn’t have and tries to cover it up. 

The final period seems to tick by faster than the others. Maybe it’s the snacks, or the fact that snacks make Balthazar a little less likely to complain, or the fact that the teams have been tied since the last goal. It’s easy to see everyone is playing harder, a little more aggressively too. Castiel watches someone from the other team come at Dean full speed from the side, crashing into him, but it just steers him off course a little. Castiel couldn’t even stay standing and move his head at the same time, he’s always impressed with the talent of everyone on the team. 

The crowd is getting antsy as the clock ticks down, more and more reactive to every move. Even Balthazar cheers when Benny bats a particularly good shot away before it can reach the goal. There’s a constant murmur by the time they fall into overtime. Castiel can’t imagine how tired everyone must be, but they line themselves up and start again. Dean is moving so fast he’s a blur, weaving between a few players. Castiel half expects him to pass it on to Garth again, and the defensive players trying to get between them must think so too, leaving a perfect opening for Dean to smack the puck into the goal. Castiel jumps out of his seat, fist pumping into the air, joined by most of the crowd around him. 

Dean is mobbed by the rest of the team on the ice, and it makes Castiel grin so wide his cheeks hurt. He knows that confidence can be hard for Dean to find, and he also knows that Dean’s very good at hockey. Castiel hopes moments like this can stick with him as a reminder. Before everyone else can start flooding the aisles, Castiel works his way out, jogging down the stairs. He usually waits until after and greets Dean in the hall, but he wants to be the first one to tell Dean congratulations. 

“We won!” Dean shouts, pulling off his helmet and letting it clatter onto the ground next to him. His face is flushed and his hair is plastered to his forehead and he’s wearing a smile bigger than Castiel’s ever seen from him. He flushes with warmth, just seeing Dean look so  _ happy _ means a lot to him, but he’s also incredibly attractive right now. 

“You won,” Castiel agrees, grinning as he watches Dean come over to the wall, tugging the door open. “You, specifically, actually.” 

“I did, didn’t I?” Dean’s arms come around Castiel’s waist in a tight embrace, and the next thing Castiel knows they’re spinning across the ice. Castiel curls his fingers into the shoulder of Dean’s jersey, grip slipping on the bulky padding underneath. He makes an undignified noise when Dean spins them around again, which he might be embarrassed about if Dean didn’t have the most beautiful laugh in response. 

“I just wanted to tell you congratulations,” Castiel says breathlessly when Dean finally stops spinning them around. He’s still holding onto Castiel, gloves clunky and awkward feeling against Castiel’s back, but he’s not going anywhere until he has to. Dean is glowing as he grins down at him, eyes searching his face like they tend to right before he says something thoughtful. Castiel waits, stunned when instead of saying something Dean’s lips are on his. 

Dean is aware everyone else can see them, right? Castiel wonders if he should pull back, but Dean tightens his grip around him and nips down on his lip like he does when he wants something and any doubts Castiel had are gone just like that. He wraps his arms around Dean’s neck, holding him there for a moment longer, pretty sure his heart is hammering so hard that Dean can feel it through his chest where they’re pressed together. 

“Finally! Garth, you owe me five bucks.” Benny’s voice echoes across the ice. Castiel expects this to be the moment Dean pulls away, hoping that he’s not going to freak out when he does. Instead, one of Dean’s arms tightens around him so he can let go with the other, holding up a blocky, gloved middle finger and smiling against Castiel’s lips. 

“Awe, c’mon. You guys couldn’t have waited two more days?” Finally Dean pulls away, looking even more flushed than he had when they’d started, looking back to the team. About half of them are watching, but the other half don’t seem to have any interest. Castiel knows the same thing happened when he came out, some people made a big deal out of it but most of them didn’t care. 

“You shouldn’t bet on your friend’s relationships, Garth,” Dean shoots back, grinning and giving a little squeeze around Castiel. “I should go clean up,” he adds in a softer voice, looking back to Castiel. 

“You should, you look disgusting,” Castiel replies, moving one hand through Dean’s sweaty hair before he tugs him down to kiss him again. It’s not their first kiss, at this point it’s pretty far from it, but it’s the first time Dean’s knowingly kissed him in front of anyone else and Castiel is still having a hard time wrapping his head around that. Finally, when a salty drop of sweat manages to slide between their lips, Castiel pulls back, dragging his hands down to Dean’s chest. “You’re coming over tonight, right?” 

“Yeah,” Dean answers, still grinning. He’s going to have laugh lines around his eyes by the time he’s 20, but Castiel loves them. He loves getting to see Dean smile and enjoy his life, and he loves hearing Dean laugh, and he loves watching him skate around down here and score the winning goal for their team. 

“Good.” They’re probably leaning very much towards the side of enough PDA to be gross, but Castiel grasps the front of Dean’s jersey to tug him back down for one more brief kiss before he pulls away. Dean rejoins the team, Benny and Garth immediately descending upon him, wearing smiles big enough to match Dean’s. Castiel watches them for a second longer before he turns around, realizing belatedly that he is on ice and has to awkwardly shuffle his way back to the exit. 

It’s a relief to step off the ice and onto solid ground again, but as soon as Castiel looks up he sees Balthazar staring at him, arms folded over his chest and his eyebrow trying to find its way into his hairline again. Castiel tugs at the hem of his shirt, trying to straighten it out a little as he heads up the stairs. “It seems I owe you an apology.” It’s not what Castiel expects to hear, stopping in front of Balthazar.

“An apology?” he parrots, tilting his head a little. 

“I believe I was very adamant you were wasting your time with a straight boy and it appears that he is not straight after all. That didn’t look like a first kiss for you two either. He’s the one who gave you the hickie, isn’t he?” Slowly, Castiel nods, still a little nervous that Balthazar is going to be upset about being left out. 

“We’ve been… dating, I guess you would say. Since January.” 

“I knew it! I knew you had a boyfriend and I  _ knew _ that was a hickie. Really, we need to work on a better cover story for you. A book?” 

“I didn’t think anyone would notice,” Castiel grumbles, snatching his coat from the back of the seat where he’d left it, tugging it on. 

“Oh, I didn’t realize you had friends who had lost their sight entirely,” Balthazar quips, grinning and hooking his arm through Castiel’s as they head up the rest of the stairs and out to the hall. 

“You’re not upset I didn’t tell you?” Castiel asks quietly after a moment, voice sounding too small in the emptiness of the hall. 

“No,” Balthazar replies quickly, before his eyebrows pinch together and he shakes his head. “Well, yes. A little. But I’m assuming you had good reason. I’m not the only one who was convinced that Dean was straight. But I am very happy for you. It can be hard for you to find your people and for all my criticism, I really think Dean is one of them. You’re a special person, Cassie, and you need special people around you. That’s why I’m your friend, after all.” Balthazar goes for a smug smile, but there’s still a hint of softness behind it when Castiel peeks at his face.

“Oh, yes, Thaz, you certainly are special,” Castiel replies, smiling softly as he nudges the other with his shoulder. 

“I’m being nothing but nice to you and this is how you repay me? Unbelievable.” 

“I think you’ll be okay.” Castiel pats Balthazar’s arm, smiling a little when he huffs. The nice thing is that he really doesn’t think Balthazar would lie to him about being okay with this. He’d made it clear when he was unhappy before, and he’s not the kind of person that sees a lot of value in trying to make everyone else happy. 

“Well, I suppose you’re not going to need a ride home tonight,” Balthazar says, grinning when Castiel looks at him. 

“I have a ride,” he admits, ducking his head. 

“Then I’m going to get out of here so you can greet your  _ ride _ properly when he comes out.” Castiel rolls his eyes, fighting not to go red which only serves to make it happen more quickly. “I really am happy for you,” Balthazar tacks on, leaning over to kiss Castiel’s cheek, giving his arm a squeeze before he pulls away. 

“Thank you.” Castiel watches him head down the hall, smiling softly to himself before he pulls out his phone and leans back against the wall, scrolling idly while he waits for Dean. It still doesn’t feel quite real, he keeps wanting to pinch himself. Sure, he’d hoped this would happen, some day, but he really hadn’t expected it this year. Coming out in high school could suck, and he’d understand if Dean wanted to wait, but he’s very excited to stop hiding. Finally, the locker room door bangs open, the rush of boys even chattier than usual. Benny holds his hand up for a high five when he passes, and Garth just grins, apparently over losing his five dollars. 

“Hey, babe.” Castiel turns to greet the familiar voice, raising an eyebrow as he does. 

“Babe? That’s new.” 

“Yeah, it’s kind of a give away but I guess the secret is out now.” Dean slings his arm over Castiel’s shoulder, looking just as good as Castiel remembers with his sweats on. He doesn’t understand how something that’s meant to be so casual can look so alluring, but he knows it has a lot more to do with the body inside it than anything else. 

“I guess it is,” Castiel replies, wrapping his arm around Dean’s waist and leaning into his side. “Did you know you called me babe at the party, too?” 

“Eugh, how do you keep finding more embarrassing things to tell me that I did?” 

“It’s not my fault you did so many embarrassing things,” Castiel points out, giving Dean a small squeeze, happy to let the other lead him out to the car. 

“Touche. I guess next time I get blackout drunk and confess all of my feelings I’ll have to be a little more careful.” 

“Or we could just plan to avoid that altogether.” Dean shrugs, a little smile still stuck on his face. It’s always nice to see Dean happy, but the last few weeks with him so worried about Sam, it’s even nicer now. Dean unlocks the car when they approach, pulling Castiel’s door open for him before he tosses his duffle bag in the back seat. 

Castiel gets settled, watching the other come around the car and climb in on his side. The rumble of the engine is comfortingly familiar as Dean starts it up. The most recent set of memories Castiel has in this spot have a warm glow around them, because they’re almost all of Dean convincing him to ‘go out’ to lunch and then kiss each other until they can’t breathe. “How are you feeling?” he asks, reaching out for Dean’s hand. He knows they’ll sit here and idle for a minute and he likes to take advantage of every second he can be touching the other. 

“What? I’m fine.” Dean looks genuinely perplexed why Castiel would even ask. Castiel knows he can be oblivious some times (a lot of the time), but it’s a surprise to see it in Dean. 

“You just came out to the whole hockey team. And everyone who was watching.” Dean shrugs, looking down at their hands, his thumb brushing across Castiel’s knuckles. 

“Well… I don’t know. I didn’t really plan it. We just won and I was feeling good, and you came over and were looking at me like you do and it seemed to so stupid to keep hiding it when I could just kiss you right there.” Dean works his lower lip between his teeth, eyebrows pulling together as his gaze snaps up to Castiel’s face. “I didn’t even ask, are you… did you want to keep it quiet still? I’m so sorry, Cas, I should have-” Castiel is quick to cut him off, pressing a hard kiss to his lips, keeping it somewhat brief only because he’s pretty sure there’s more waiting for them. 

“I want to tell everybody about my amazing boyfriend,” he promises as he pulls back, squeezing Dean’s hand again. “And I want to hold your hand whenever I want and get a kiss between classes and make everyone else roll their eyes because we’re such a couple.” 

“Me too,” Dean says earnestly, glancing down at their hands again. “I think it’s ‘cause I told Sam. I can’t shut up about you now, and he’s so cool about everything. I mean, he gets tired of hearing about it, but that’s just because of who I am, not because of us.” 

“I’m sure Charlie regrets telling me that she knew, now. We talk about you all the time.” 

“We? So she’s talking back? What is she saying?” Dean demands, looking so insulted Castiel has to lean over and leave a gentle kiss at the corner of his mouth. 

“Well, she was telling me about how Dorothy talking about her ex-boyfriend broke you.” 

“It didn’t break me! I was just… I don’t know! How are you just supposed to know these things?” 

“You’re not supposed to just know. You figure it out.” Castiel leans over again, catching Dean’s lips properly this time and lingering there for a moment longer, staying close once he breaks the kiss. “Like if that feels really, really good then you know you want to do it again.” 

“You are such a dork,” Dean breathes, absolutely no bite to his words when he cups the back of Castiel’s head and pulls him in for another kiss. Castiel sinks into this one, all too willing to comply when Dean’s tongue prods at his lips, shifting closer. He’s still feeling warm, though if it’s from seeing Dean happy or seeing Dean out there winning or seeing Dean in his sweats or seeing Dean come out he’s not really sure, but he is positive that the longer they kiss, the warmer he gets. He lets Dean lick into his mouth, meeting him with his own tongue in a lazy battle for dominance. It’s a struggle to convince himself to pull back, especially the way Dean is staring at him when he does, eyes wide and dark. 

“You said you’re coming over.” It’s not a question this time, but Dean nods anyway, licking his lips as he stares at Castiel for another long moment before he turns back to the steering wheel, adjusting himself in his seat. 

“You definitely need to come to more hockey games,” Dean mutters, half under his breath like he’s not even sure he meant to say it out loud. It makes Castiel grin as he settles back. The silence that falls between them isn’t uncomfortable, but it is charged, energy humming between them. Dean is out the door the second after he parks and Castiel is quick to follow, grabbing his hand firmly and leading him inside. 

The house is quiet. There’s muffled music thumping from Anna’s room and someone shouting on a TV show further down the hall, but no one is there to stop Castiel from pulling Dean up the stairs and directly into his room. He leans back against the door to push it shut, one hand slipping behind him to turn the lock. There’s a beat of silence, both of them just standing there looking at each other before Castiel closes the space between them, pressing a warm kiss to Dean’s lips and starting to nudge him back towards the bed. It squeaks in a quiet protest when Dean settles back on it, hands on Castiel’s hips to encourage him to climb into his lap. 

Breaking the kiss, Castiel moves his hands to cup Dean’s cheeks, looking him over. “You know what I kept thinking while I was watching you play?” 

“That you still don’t know all the rules for hockey?” Dean replies, a smirk playing at the corner of his lip. 

“That you’re beautiful.” Dean’s eyes go wide, surprise clear on his face. His lips fall open just slightly, drawing even more attention to just how full and soft they are. Castiel brushes his thumb against Dean’s cheek, the smattering of freckles decorating his cheekbone, drinking him in. 

“I’ve never- no one has ever- beautiful?” 

“Beautiful,” Castiel repeats, leaning in to press a soft kiss to Dean’s lips. He doesn’t stay there, though, moving to find those same freckles he’d just touched, covering them with gentle kisses before he wanders to more, making sure to stop by  the one at the corner of his eye before he finds his way back to Dean’s lips. Again, it’s just a pit stop and he’s on the move, finding his way down Dean’s neck. 

He has received a handful of hickies, but he hasn’t left one yet. It felt wrong when Dean didn’t want people to know, and Castiel hated the idea of Dean saying it was someone else, going along with the suggestion it could be a girl who left it. There’s a possessive streak in Castiel he didn’t realize he had until he’s biting down gently at Dean’s neck and a thrill shoots down his spine at the idea of people looking at Dean and knowing he’s the one who put it there. 

“You really, really gotta come to more hockey games if this is what it does to you,” Dean breathes out, fingers digging into Castiel’s hips. Castiel smiles softly but briefly, more intent on using his lips to suck a mark into Dean’s skin. Slowly, Castiel’s hands drift to Dean’s shoulders before sliding down his chest slowly. He’s not what Castiel would call spectacularly muscular, but he can feel the other moving and twitching as Castiel’s hands continue their journey. 

Detaching himself from Dean’s neck, Castiel takes a moment to admire the mark he’s left, getting another shock seeing it there. “Beautiful,” he mutters again, leaving one more soft kiss on top of it, apparently all Dean has patience for because one of his hands flies from Castiel’s hips to grab his hair and yank him into a kiss. Castiel pushes forward on his lap, letting his hands slip just under the edge of Dean’s shirt, resting on his abdomen lightly. Dean is kissing him so hard it almost hurts, teeth clacking together as he tries to pull Castiel closer. If he thought he was warm in the car, it’s nothing compared to the way he’s burning right now, feeding off every little noise and movement he gets from the other. 

Breaking the kiss isn’t very appealing, but Castiel does just enough to speak when his fingertips skirt the waist of Dean’s sweats. “May I?” he questions lowly. He expects some kind of quip from Dean for it, but he’s answered with a choked noise and a jerk of Dean’s head instead. It’s easy to seal their lips together again, slipping under the elastic of Dean’s sweats. Castiel’s heart is hammering in his chest. This isn’t something he has a lot of experience with, and certainly not with someone as attractive and sweet and  _ perfect _ as Dean Winchester. 

Castiel takes his time, finding the waist of Dean’s boxers next, again just letting his fingers play across the line. He’s nervous, and he wants to give Dean the chance to back out if he wants to. That doesn’t seem to be the case. Dean makes an impatient noise, hips shifting while he delivers a particularly sharp nip to Castiel’s bottom lip. It’s all the invitation Castiel needs to press his hand inside, brushing through a patch of coarse hair before his fingers wrap gently around Dean’s dick. 

One slow stroke is all it takes to earn the most marvelous sound from Dean, a sound that has already earned a place high on the list of Castiel’s favorite sounds in the world. He pulls his hand back down, thumb brushing over the shaft, appreciating feeling Dean growing harder. Dean’s jaw has gone slack, giving Castiel ample opportunity to press his tongue into his mouth. Running the tip of his tongue against the roof of Dean’s mouth usually gets a good reaction, and when Castiel accompanies it with a small twist of his hand, Dean groans again, arching away from the wall. 

Castiel is so focused on what he’s doing he doesn’t notice Dean’s hands moving until he’s fumbling at the button of Castiel’s jeans. He breaks the kiss with a soft noise of surprise, looking between them. Dean’s hands are trembling and it takes him several long moments to get the button popped open. Castiel probably isn’t helping, his hand making a few more passes along Dean, slow and distracted as he watches the other. 

Dean shoves his hand down the front of Castiel’s jeans without much finesse, fumbling a little here too and nearly jerking his hand back out when his fingers brush the outline of Castiel’s cock through his boxers. Castiel recognizes the look of stubborn determination that takes over Dean’s face, and it’s accompanied by the other’s fingers squeezing around him a little too tightly and a sharp intake of breath. 

“Hey,” Castiel mutters, his voice pitched lower than usual, but he’s trying really hard to focus here. “You okay?” 

“I’m good,” Dean says quickly, another uncoordinated jerk of his hand. His cheeks are pink, but it’s not the kind of flush that Castiel wants to see, especially with how wild Dean’s eyes have gone. 

“It kind of feels like you’re panicking,” Castiel says gently, his hand falling still. There’s some part of his brain that is furious that he’s stopped, that he’s trying to talk to Dean when he could just shove his tongue back into his mouth, but the rest of him knows that’s not how he wants to do this. 

“I’m not! I’m just- I’m-” Dean breaks off, eyes going brighter, a thin sheen coating them that looks suspiciously like it could end up being tears. 

“It’s okay. You don’t have to,” Castiel promises softly, gently pulling his own hand back and out of Dean’s sweats. 

“I kind of hate it when you say that,” Dean huffs, pulling his hand back as well, slumping back against the wall and looking at a spot past Castiel’s shoulder. 

“Why?” 

“Because I want to, all the time. I like doing stuff for you, I’m not going to do it if I don’t want to. I really like you, Cas, and I don’t want to fuck it up by doing stupid shit like saying we have to keep it quiet or freaking out like this,” Dean’s voice cracks and he blinks hard, shaking his head. 

“Dean.” Castiel’s heart feels a little like it’s breaking in his chest, knowing Dean is trying so hard. He hates that Dean has to try, that just because of who they are Dean’s plagued by insecurities, but the best thing he can do right now is be here for him. Lifting a hand, Castiel touches Dean’s chin gently, pulling his gaze back to him. “You’re not fucking anything up. I promise. I really like you too, and I don’t want you to do anything that makes you uncomfortable just for my sake.” 

“But I-” 

“You wouldn’t want me to, would you?” Castiel says firmly. Dean’s lips search for an answer before he closes them, dropping his head back against the wall. Castiel settles back on his knees a little more, offering Dean some space. 

“I’ve never touched another guy’s dick before,” Dean mutters after a moment, closing his eyes. 

“I kind of thought I was the first boy you even kissed,” Castiel admits with a small smile. 

“You are. So definitely no dicks.” The corner of Dean’s mouth pulls up a little and the tightness that the last few moments had introduced to Castiel’s chest eases a little. “I guess you’ve kissed guys before, huh?” he questions, picking his head up and squinting one eye open. 

“A few.” One of Dean’s hands is laying on his thigh, and Castiel reaches down, gently lacing their fingers together. 

“Tell me about the first one?” It’s a surprising request, but Castiel doesn’t mind, giving Dean’s hand a little squeeze. 

“It was when I was in seventh grade. You know those terrible dances they tried to force us to have in the middle of the day? A bunch of us went and hid in the science teacher’s classroom and decided to play truth or dare instead. They dared Jordan Mantega to kiss me because they all thought it would be hilarious to see two boys kiss, and I wasn’t exactly advertising my sexuality at that point. So he kissed me and they all laughed when he ran off to the bathroom to rinse out his mouth, and it was… not great. But when I came out a few years later, Jordan apologized to me. He was really nice about it, and I don’t blame them, or anyone else. Everyone’s stupid when they’re 13, I think.” 

“That’s super shitty.” Dean had picked up his head at some point during Castiel’s story, both eyes open now. 

“It probably wasn’t the best first kiss, but it could have been worse. It definitely helped me figure something out when I was more excited for that dare than when they suggested one of the girls kiss me,” Castiel admits with a little shrug, smiling softly. 

“I think my first gay kiss was better than that, even if I threw up after,” Dean says, glancing down at their hands. “I like to think of our second kiss as the first one, since it’s the first one I remember.” 

“I’m not opposed to that.” With a soft smile, Castiel leans in to kiss Dean’s cheek, slowly shifting himself off his lap and settling next to him, reaching up to pull Dean’s arm around his shoulder so he can snuggle up against his side. 

“Y’know, I thought I’d be the one that had to talk you into a handjob,” Dean mutters, leaning his head against Castiel’s. 

“I don’t think I have to do too much to talk you into it,” Castiel replies, pulling Dean’s hand to his lips and pressing a kiss to his knuckles. He doesn’t doubt that if he’d kept his mouth shut, Dean would’ve pushed himself through his panic, but Castiel is well aware that didn’t mean the panic would stay gone. They have time. 

“I’m going to give you the handjob of your life next time.” 

“You’re talking very big for someone who couldn’t even unbutton my pants,” Castiel teases gently. This is where Dean thrives, in the sarcasm and the teasing, and sure enough a grin spreads across Dean’s lips. 

“You didn’t have to deal with any buttons, I’d like to see if you could be so collected if the tables were turned. I’m going to find the most complicated pants I can and watch you struggle.” Castiel thinks it’s mostly an empty threat, but he wouldn’t be entirely surprised if Dean showed up with a padlock of some other mechanism holding his pants closed. 

“You’ll think it’s hilarious until you need to pee and then you’re going to be stuck.” Castiel grins, pressing another kiss to Dean’s knuckles. He’s still a little too warm, the arousal that had stirred not entirely on board with the message that they were changing paths, but it’s nothing he can’t take care of in the shower after Dean leaves. Right now, he’s very happy to be curled up under Dean’s arm, even cozier when he reaches out to pull one of the three blankets that live on his bed up over them. 

“What, you’re not going to follow me into the bathroom and help me? I don’t understand the point of dating, then.” 

“Sorry, but I think we’re a little young for me to promise I’ll help with bathroom duties,” Castiel teases, tilting his head back to press a kiss to Dean’s jaw. 

“What’s the age limit on something like that? Retirement? What if I just have a really shitty bladder? It happens, you wouldn’t dump me for something like that, right?” Dean manages to keep a remarkably even voice following this line of questioning. 

It’s not exactly the turn that Castiel had hoped the evening would take, but it doesn’t stop him from staying up well past midnight, trying to see how many times he can get Dean to laugh so hard that he snorts, and one time he even manages to make tears leak out of the corner of his eyes. Lying in bed after his shower, he wraps himself up in the same blanket he’d pulled over the two of them, happy that it’s holding Dean’s scent for a little while. Even if he could, he doesn’t think he would change the night. It was pretty damned perfect as it was. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry that I've missed two Sunday updates!! Work is insane trying to get everything done before Christmas, but I'm hoping things will even out soon, and that some stupid fluffy babies make up for it a little bit.


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: homophobia, eating disorder discussion

The locker opens with a soft click. Dean pulls the marker from his pocket, continuing his work on the doodle in the corner of the door. Castiel had given him his combination so he could grab one of his books while he was sick and Dean’s been using that to his advantage ever since. Castiel scolded him for drawing in his locker at first, until Dean added their initials with a little heart around them. There’s an entire collection of characters now, a three-eyed monster with too much hair, a vampire that only has one giant fang in the middle of his face, an anthropomorphic bee that Dean despises but Castiel thought was hilarious so Dean added a few more iterations. Sometimes, when he’s feeling especially soft, he just writes their names again, and a few extra stars and hearts have shown up around those that Dean hadn’t put there himself. 

Keeping his hands to himself while they were trying to keep their relationship quiet was already a real struggle for Dean, but now that they’re not in hiding, he’s a lost cause. It doesn’t help that every time he reaches out for Castiel’s hand or wraps an arm around his shoulders that he gets this soft little smile and Castiel looking at him like he can’t believe he’s real. 

It’s also done very little to help with Dean’s declining motivation. Senioritis was something he never thought he’d have to worry about considering he put in such little effort to begin with, but now that he can openly waste away entire classes flirting with Castiel, that’s what he does. The only thing that stops him from trying to drag Castiel off every chance he gets is that he knows Castiel has a real shot at going somewhere. Thinking about it is something that Dean puts off as much as he can, avoiding the tight knot of panic that squeezes in on his chest every time he does. 

They should talk about it, Dean knows that. What is he supposed to say, though? Hey, Cas, I’m barely going to graduate and have to stay in town so my brother doesn’t go off the rails, do you want to skip out on college so you can stick around while I work a shitty hourly job for the rest of my life? As much as he would love to imagine some kind of future with Castiel, Dean’s pretty sure he’d better make the most of the time he has right now so he’ll at least have a few good memories to look back on when he’s drinking himself stupid in whatever crappy apartment he’ll land in. It always spirals so quickly in Dean’s head, he can’t imagine trying to say any of that to Cas. Luckily, the few times Castiel has tried to bring it up Dean had been able to distract him, but he doesn’t know how long he’ll be able to keep that up. 

Seeing Castiel coming down the hall is enough to get Dean to shake himself from his thoughts. “You fell asleep again,” Castiel observes, pulling the locker door open a little further and glancing at the latest addition. It’s a dragon, or at least it’s supposed to be. It looks more like an alligator with bat wings, but it makes the corner of Castiel’s mouth turn up a little so Dean thinks it’s alright. 

“How do you know?” Economics is his least favorite class, a double whammy because it’s boring as hell and it’s one of the only classes he doesn’t have with Castiel. There’s not much else to do but nap. Dean caps the marker, tucking it back into his pocket and leaning against the locker next to Castiel’s, folding his arms over his chest. 

“You’ve got a spiral indented in your face.” Castiel drops his backpack between his feet, swapping out a few books. Zipping it closed, he turns towards Dean and reaches out to tap his forehead. “Right there.” 

“Ouch, babe. What if that’s just how my skin looks?” Dean challenges, pushing himself away from the locker he’d been leaning against so he can shut the door of Castiel’s, snatching his backpack before Castiel can pick it up himself, swinging it over his shoulder. 

“Then I would tell you that you need to go to the doctor.” Castiel’s fingers are long and slender and comfortingly familiar as he slips them between Dean’s, giving his hand a squeeze. “And then you would tell me that you’re not going to go to a doctor until the day that you die, and then I would tell you that defeats the purpose.” He starts down the hall towards the library and Dean follows, shaking his head. 

“I’m not that predictable.” Castiel gives him a pointed look, softened by another squeeze to his hand. “Well, I don’t go to the doctor now and I’m fine,” Dean grouses, squeezing Castiel’s hand back. 

“You’re 18, you’re supposed to be fine,” Castiel points out. “I just want to keep you around for a little longer.” 

“Sap,” Dean accuses, pink high on his cheeks. Sometimes he has himself convinced that Castiel is just here because it’s convenient, and that in a few months he’s going to take off and find something better, but sometimes he says things like this and Dean thinks he might be wrong. 

Charlie and Balthazar are already at the table as they come in. They can’t have been here long, but Charlie already has several sheets of paper spread out in front of her and a book open next to her laptop. “Oh good, you’re here. Cas, there’s a book about cell biology by Alberts that I forgot to grab, can you go get it? I’ve started our outline already but we’ll need that to fill out the third section.” Senioritis didn’t seem to be slowing Charlie down at all. If anything she seemed to be working harder. At least Castiel could keep up with her, Dean can’t imagine being partnered with her at this point. He didn’t do particularly well partnered with her earlier in the year either, but right now he doesn’t know he’d live through it. 

“Alberts? Same one we were using yesterday?” Castiel questions, pulling out a chair for Dean to drop his bag onto. 

“Yes, there’s supposed to be a companion book too if you see it.” Charlie doesn’t look up as she answers, fingers flying over the keyboard and eyes glued on one of the papers in front of her. Dean shakes his head, keeping hold of Castiel’s hands and trailing after him between the bookcases. Ending up with a nerdy brother and a nerdy boyfriend and a group of nerdy friends might be pointing to something about Dean himself, but he volunteers to ignore that. 

“She realizes she’s already accepted, right?” Dean questions. 

“Technically they can revoke it if your grades drop too much this last semester.” That isn’t something that Dean thinks Charlie would ever be at risk for. Even with all his complaining, Dean can understand. He wants to be successful and prove himself as well, he just isn’t capable. 

“What if your boyfriend is a bad influence? Gets you kicked out of college before you even get there?” Dean questions, watching Castiel push himself up on his toes to read the title of a few books on the top shelf. 

“Then I guess I’ll have to sit at home and be taken care of all day.” Castiel grins as he glances back at Dean, squeezing his hand before he lets go so he can reach up and pulling one of the books down. Dean vaguely recognizes the colorful cover, the same twisting helix that seems to be on all science books displayed prominently. 

“Oh, do you think I’ll be taking care of you? You’re going to be awfully disappointed.” 

“I think you underestimate yourself,” Castiel replies, turning and leaning back against the bookcase. How he always knows the days Dean needs to hear things like that, he doesn’t know. Of course, Dean’s brain is already scrambling to refute that, but it’s interrupted when Castiel reaches for the front of Dean’s shirt and pulls him in for a kiss. Dean settles his hands on the bookshelf, caging Castiel in. 

“I think you overestimate myself,” Dean mutters, smiling softly as he looks over Castiel’s face. 

“You’re just fishing for compliments now,” Castiel accuses, letting go of Dean’s shirt so he can move an arm up around his neck, pulling him back in. There had been plenty of tentative, exploratory moments in their kisses, but Castiel has a pushy side that’s been coming out more and more often. Dean loves it more than he’s willing to admit, but he doesn’t really have to think too hard about it when he’s being distracted by the sharp nip Castiel delivers to his bottom lip. 

Why Castiel still wants to kiss him Dean doesn’t understand. There’s still a heavy guilt settled on his chest when he thinks about how Castiel must’ve felt when he flinched away from touching him. Dean would feel worse about it, but every time they’d made out since then had seemed more intense. Maybe it was a confidence boost, knowing that Castiel was attracted to him enough to want more, and maybe it was just realizing that it felt really fucking good, but Dean’s even more eager than usual to press Castiel back against the bookshelf. 

“I’m not hearing any compliments,” Dean teases as he breaks the kiss to take a breath, giving Castiel’s nose a gentle nudge. 

“You’re very funny.” Castiel tilts his head just enough to catch Dean’s lips again, tugging him a little closer. “Sometimes,” he amends. “And you’re pretty cute. You can be really nice when you want to be.” 

“When I want to be, huh?” Even days when he’s not feeling great about himself, spending a few minutes with Castiel can leave Dean with a smile stuck on his face. 

“If I tell you that you’re nice all the time you’ll argue with me,” Castiel replies, leaving no room for Dean to do that when he presses their lips together again. The book Castiel is holding is digging into Dean’s stomach a little, but it’s a worthy tradeoff to have him pressed as close as he is. A swipe of his tongue over Castiel’s bottom lip earns a little sigh Dean’s grown to expect, Castiel’s body arching a little closer. This is, in Dean’s not so humble opinion, absolutely the best use of study hall and he doesn’t know why they haven’t been doing this all year. 

The sound of someone clearing their throat startles Dean into breaking the kiss. Charlie stands at the end of the bookcase, arms folded over her chest. “Castiel, if you’re not back at the table in three minutes, I’m calling the police.” She doesn’t wait for a response, turning on heel and disappearing. 

“D’you think she’d actually call the police?” Dean questions, looking back to Castiel with an eyebrow arched. 

“No, but I don’t really want to find out. Come on, let’s go.” Castiel places a gentle hand on Dean’s chest, pushing back a little. 

“Hey, we still have three whole minutes!” Leaning in, Dean manages to land one kiss on Castiel’s lips before the other turns his head. “Cas, baby, three minutes,” he whines. 

“You’re ridiculous.” Castiel turns back to him, taking an entirely too brief kiss before he’s pressing at his chest again. It does absolutely nothing to stop Dean from dipping back in, dropping kisses wherever his lips land. There’s a breathless little giggle that comes from Castiel that Dean’s only ever heard when they’re alone together. The grin it brings to Dean’s face leaves the next few kisses a little sloppy, and he’s still smiling when Castiel finally kisses him back. Castiel must know it’s the best way to catch him off guard, because a moment later he’s ducked out from under Dean’s arm. “We have to go.” Dean frowns as Castiel takes a step back. “Don’t look at me like that,” he adds. If Dean was half as good at those puppy dog eyes as Sam is he thinks Castiel might not have been able to resist, but he’s got the face he does and has to live with that. 

“I’m not looking at you like anything,” Dean gripes, literally dragging his feet to follow Castiel. 

“Whatever you say.” Castiel reaches for his hand once he’s close enough and if Dean was actually feeling anything more than mildly annoyed at being interrupted, it disappears like that. He even manages not to go too red when they come back to the table and Charlie is staring at them with an eyebrow arched. 

Considering Dean has already distracted Castiel plenty, and Charlie might commit a crime if he doesn’t stop, he lets his boyfriend get to work, slumping into his chair. He pulls out a notebook, but he already knows he won’t be doing any work, and a few seconds later he has his phone out and is tapping through a game. Balthazar seems to have caught onto the quiet vibe as well, letting Charlie and Castiel do their work. Dean catches bits and pieces of what they’re saying, but he doesn’t follow most of it, especially when he’s not really trying to. 

He’s pretty immersed in his game, setting up a line of trolls to keep out the dwarves from the other players, when a hand comes down on his shoulder. To his surprise, it’s Benny standing next to him, grinning. “I can’t wait until I get study hall next year if this is all you have to do.” 

“You shouldn’t follow Dean’s example,” Charlie chirps, again managing not even to look at them while she does.

“Well, it seems like it worked out okay. That’s why I stopped by, anyway, I wanted to say congrats.” Benny’s hand comes down in Dean’s hair, ruffling it. 

“Congrats?” Dean echoes, glancing up at the other. As far as he knows, he hasn’t done anything very successful today. He was glad he’d woken up before economics was over so he didn’t get caught sleeping through it again, but that didn’t seem like something Benny would know about or find worth mentioning. 

“Your scholarship,” Benny replies. This finally draws Charlie’s attention away from her computer. In fact, it’s got everyone’s attention, all of them looking at Dean. 

“You didn’t tell us you got a scholarship!” Charlie exclaims, exchanging a glance with Castiel. His eyebrows are pinched together in confusion when he turns to look at Dean, something pulling down at the corners of his lips that looks like hurt. 

“That’s because I didn’t,” Dean says quickly, shaking his head and looking back up at Benny. 

“Your name is on the list, brother. Just posted today, I think.” 

“The list?” Maybe Dean never did wake up in class and he’s come up with some confusing, kind of pathetic dream. 

“They put it up outside the gym, all the athletic scholarships. I’m not surprised, y’know, you’ve been killing it this year and Jody really likes you.” Benny gives Dean a wide grin, shaking his head. “You don’t got to look so surprised about it, you earned it.” 

“I’m- I don’t have- I’m on the list?” Dean repeats, feeling shell-shocked. He vaguely remembers putting in his application after Jody pushed him to. More accurately, she’d ‘confiscated’ his keys and told Dean he couldn’t have them back until he filled out his application and handed it in. There was something about her, especially when she did things like that, that reminded Dean of Bobby. 

“He said you’re on the list, Dean. You got a scholarship and no one else is surprised because we all knew that you were going to,” Balthazar said, tone even and almost bored sounding, but he’s smiling when Dean looks at him. 

“It’s still great news though! We should celebrate, we could go get ice cream again. Ooh, or we could-” Charlie is cut off by the librarian. Dean hadn’t noticed her approaching the table, but they were getting pretty loud. 

“Mr. Lafitte, I don’t remember your pass saying that you were here to gossip.” 

“Sorry,” Benny says, ducking his head. He could be in league with Sam; he looks just sheepish enough to get away with it but not so much it’s obvious what he’s trying to do. 

“You’d better go find your book, move along,” the librarian says, waiting until Benny turns away from the table to leave herself. Dean stares after them for a moment, still turning over the news in his mind. He’s not sure he believes it, maybe they put his name on the list by mistake. It could be someone else’s name and Benny just misread it, though Dean doesn’t think there are a lot of names that look close enough to his to be confused. Castiel is beaming at him when Dean turns back. 

“I’m gonna go look.” The chair almost falls over as Dean shoves himself up, but he catches it in time to right it. 

“I’ll come with,” Castiel offers, pulled right back into his seat by Charlie as soon as he tries to stand. 

“You will not, we still have to finish this. Dean’s a big boy, he can report back.” Castiel gives Dean an apologetic look, but Dean honestly doesn’t mind too much. He doesn’t necessarily want an audience when someone points out it’s a mistake and that he isn’t getting anything. He gives Castiel’s shoulder a squeeze as he passes, heading out of the library. 

A pit settles uncomfortably heavy on Dean’s stomach. He should be happy, but he can’t help but feel like this is some kind of trick. Someone out there thought it would be funny to put his name on the list just so they could laugh at him for thinking he could ever deserve something like this. At least it would be less embarrassing than getting pig blood dumped on him at prom or something, but it sure as hell didn’t feel good. 

When he turns the corner by the gym, the list is posted clearly on the wall. For a second he considers just turning back and pretending that it’s there and soaking in the glory of feeling kind of worthwhile for just a little longer. It would be even more pitiful when the truth came out, though, so he forces himself to continue down the hall. His heart beats a little faster as he approaches the paper, throat going dry. Why is he so nervous when he knows that this has to be a mistake? What would he do with a scholarship anyway? It’s not like any schools have accepted him yet. 

Dean finally comes to a stop in front of the paper, eyes darting around it before he summons the nerves to scan the list. A header with poorly sized stars sits at the top, blocky word art spelling out ‘Congratulations’ between them before the list starts. At first, Dean doesn’t see his name, stomach sinking as he realizes he was right, but a second glance through he spots it. Near the top, which feels wrong too. Dean Winchester. Not penciled in, but typed out. 

“I thought I’d see you out here sometime today.” Coach Mills steps out of the door of her office, hands on her hips. 

“This isn’t…” Dean bites his lip, reaching out to tap his finger against his name. “Why would I get this?” 

“Why wouldn’t you? You’re one of the best players on our team. You show up to practice, you help your teammates when they need a boost. Your GPA is over 2.5, the only other requirement from the school.” Dean flounders for a response, still unable to believe that this could be real. Jody’s expression goes a little softer, and her voice follows, the gentlest he’s ever heard. “Look, Dean. I know you don’t think you’re cut out for school, but I know you’re smart. A few recruiters came to me, too, and they’re interested. KU is right here, you could stay in town. Stick around your brother. You could give yourself a shot while you were at it, though.”

“I haven’t been accepted yet, though, what if I don’t? My application sort of sucks, and my essay was a mess.” After spending so long thoroughly convinced he wasn’t going to college, to stand here and think that it could be very real and very close is overwhelming. 

“Your application to them isn’t much different than what you turned in to me. They have no reason not to accept you, and I’m sure you’re getting a letter in the next few weeks, especially with their hockey team vying to have you. Now, you’ve got some time to think about this, but I’ll tell you what I think. You’re a smart kid, and if you pull your head out of your ass and put in a little work, you’re going to go far.” The words have a large lump building in Dean’s throat, his eyes going wide. Bobby and Sam always told him that he was better than he thought, but they had to. They were family, it was their job. Jody had only known him this year, though, and she’s saying the same thing. 

“So… I really have the scholarship?” Dean still doesn’t fully believe it, but it’s starting to set in now. 

“Yes, you really have the scholarship.” 

“Is this one of those deals where I can take the cash prize and go buy a car instead?” Jody shakes her head, starting back towards her office. 

“Get to class, Winchester.” Dean grins, turning back to the list and staring at his name for another long moment. Against all odds, he just might have a chance. 

***

“Your face is gonna stick to the window if you keep doing that.”

“No it won’t.” Adam’s answer sounds very decisive, but he pulls back a little, resting his hands on the window instead. Decorating had distracted him for a little while, but he’d been so anxious to get it finished before Sam got home that they’d been done for an hour. 

“One time I had a friend, their face got so stuck to the window they had to live there,” Dean teases, peering out over Adam’s head. If he didn’t have Adam here to try to keep calm, he’d probably be more anxious himself. He doesn’t know why, he’s seen Sam every week and they have a standing phone call every night, but he’s not going to be settled until he has his little brother back at home. 

“Couldn’t they just cut the window?” Adam questions, tilting his head back to look up at Dean briefly. 

“He didn’t want to do that to the window, he liked it too much.” Dean leans forward a little, his hand coming up to rest on the window as well. There are going to be a whole collection of handprints and smudges to clean off after this. 

“Huh.” Adam goes quiet, looking back out the window, surprisingly still. They stand there in silence for a moment before Dean shakes his head. He can find a better activity for them than standing here waiting and worrying. Adam hasn’t been able to see Sam since he left, and he’d only talked to him on the phone a handful of times. 

“This new game on my phone is so hard, I think I need some help getting through this level. I wonder if there’s anyone around here who could help me…” Dean says, just a touch too dramatically. Adam turns back wearing an excited expression, holding his hands out. 

“Is it a puzzle? I’m good at puzzles, I can do it.” 

“It’s a really hard puzzle…” Dean advises, pulling out his phone and opening up the game. 

“I’m good at puzzles!” Adam repeats, taking the phone as soon as Dean hands it over and racing towards the sofa. It gives him something else to do, and it seems to work to get him a little closer to his regular state again, because his legs are kicking off the edge of the cushion with the normal surplus of energy Dean’s used to seeing from him. 

It doesn’t leave him with a lot to do himself, though. Castiel had offered to come over, and Dean knows that he wants to see Sam too, but Kate didn’t want any visitors tonight. They were still playing it cool around Dean’s family. Of course, Sam knows, and Adam’s figured out something is going on. Dean’s pretty sure that Kate has a suspicion too, but Dean’s not ready to tell his dad. He doesn’t know if he’ll ever be ready to do that, because he knows what John is going to say. It’s not like he’s been shy in hiding his opinion on homosexuality, and he’s spent more than one dinner recently ranting about how Sam’s wasting their money pretending to have a ‘girl disease’ so Dean has no reason to think that he’s gotten any more open minded. 

One day, he’ll have to deal with this. Hiding Cas from everyone sucked, but hiding him at home sucks almost as much. Castiel’s parents didn’t seem to care one way or the other. They remembered Dean from when he was younger, and he always had Cas home on time, that seemed to be enough for them. Dean wants Kate and his dad to like his boyfriend. That’s not a weird thing, even a loser like Dean could wish for some approval. Right now, though, they have bigger problems on their plate so Dean’s done his best to tuck this concern into the back of his mind. 

“Dean!! I finished it, it only took me two tries. I told you I’m good at puzzles,” Adam announces, holding the phone towards Dean. 

“You are, aren’t you? Why don’t you try the next one for me, too, you can let me know if you think it’s too hard for me.” Adam nods and settles back, tongue sticking out of the corner of his mouth once he starts to focus. Dean wanders, telling himself he’s not pacing when he’s checking up on the decorations. 

He’d painted a banner with Adam earlier this week that was hanging in the entryway. When they started, they planned on a whole ‘welcome home, Sam!’ but then Adam had wanted a spaceship, so Dean added an alien, and then they needed pets so they added some dogs, and dogs were Sam’s favorite so they added even more dogs, and by the time they got around to words all they had room for was Sam’s name. It’s chaotic and messy and neither Adam nor Dean are very artistic, but they’d put an effort in. 

Dean had even managed to convince Adam to let him hang up a few of the balloons they’d blown up. For approximately half a second Dean attempted some draping of the streamers before he gave up and recruited Adam to help him wrap up Sam’s chair at the table. Wrapping up Sam’s bed took a little longer, especially with Dean working by himself, but he thinks it’s worth it. Why they had hot pink streamers to begin with, Dean’s not sure, but they’re being put to use. 

A car door shuts outside and Dean spins around so fast he almost loses his balance. Adam comes rushing out from around the sofa. He must’ve abandoned Dean’s phone because he’s not holding it anymore, but Dean’s not worried about that. He pulls the door open for Adam, watching him tear across the lawn and launch himself at Sam, knocking him back against the car. Sam had been trying to pull a bag over his shoulder, but he lets it slide to the ground, hiking Adam up instead. Dean tries to tell himself to give them a second but he’s crossing the yard only slightly slower than Adam had, adding himself to the hug. 

“You guys are going to crush me,” Sam protests, so Dean squeezes him a little more tightly. He’d filled out a little, and even though Dean had seen him along the way it’s still different grabbing onto him. There’s a familiar pang of guilt for not realizing that Sam was struggling earlier, but Dean does what he’s been doing the last three months and swallows it down, adding it to the deal-with-later pile. 

Adam starts to squirm after a minute, trying to get back down, and Dean lets go of the others, going right for Sam’s bag and picking it up for him. Adam beelines for Kate next, careening into her like she hadn’t just left two hours ago. “I’m capable of carrying that myself,” Sam says, raising an eyebrow. 

“You only get an hour or two of me being nice, you better use it while you can.” Sam rolls his eyes, flicking his hair out of his face. “So like, did they not have scissors there or something?” Dean questions, reaching out to give a strand of Sam’s hair a little tug. 

“I thought you said I had an hour of you being nice,” Sam gripes, swatting at Dean’s hand. This is probably the longest that Dean has seen it, but getting Sam to cut his hair is always a fight. Another car door slams shut, and John walks by without sparing a glance for anyone else. 

“Let’s head in,” Kate says, giving them a thin smile before she starts towards the door with Adam still hanging off her neck. Well, that told Dean just about all he needed to know about how that car ride had gone. He offers to take Sam’s bag up to his room, if only to make sure the other gets a nice surprise with the bed he has to unwrap. When he comes back downstairs and into the kitchen, Kate is standing at the counter with a thick binder, laying it open. 

“Meal plans,” Sam explains when he sees Dean eyeing it, shuffling a little closer to Kate. “I thought maybe we could do burgers tonight,” he says, reaching out to point to a tab that Kate flips to. 

“Okay, so… half a burger if you eat a side, or three-quarters of burger by itself,” she says, and Sam nods. Dean peeks at the page, biting his lip. There’s a variety of options, all in their own little boxes, and a little sun in the bottom corner with a speech bubble touting ‘Food is fuel!’ John scoffs softly as he enters, coming over to the fridge and yanking it open. It’s no surprise when he pulls out a beer, heading back to the living room muttering under his breath. The TV clicks on and a familiar sports commentator is shouting about whatever football game is running. 

“Sam, we made you a sign,” Adam announces. Dean lets out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding, thankful for the distraction. Sam glances towards the living room again before he nods his head, plastering on a smile Dean knows he’s faking. 

“Alright, show me.” Adam takes Sam’s hand and drags him to the banner, starting to explain all the pictures before they get to it. Dean trails behind them, smiling a little when he looks up at the banner as well. “...and dogs, I know you like those fluffy dogs so I tried to draw one but they’re hard to draw, so I drew this one, but it looks kind of like a pig ‘cause you know those dogs with the smushed faces?” Adam is still going, sounding like he hasn’t taken a breath since he started. 

“I think it’s a great smushed face dog,” Sam says, looking up at the banner. Dean comes up behind him, patting him heavily on the shoulder. “You did such a good job, Adam, I can’t even tell your drawings apart from Dean’s.” The grin Sam shoots him is much more genuine this time. 

“I asked Mom if I could sleep in your room tonight and she said you probably want to sleep by yourself ‘cause you just got back but I don’t think so,” Adam says, hanging onto Sam’s hand and looking up at him again. 

“I think you’re right, Adam, it would be fun to have a little sleepover tonight. You in?” Dean raises an eyebrow as Sam looks to him, but he grins as he nods. 

“I think I can make it.” 

“I’m telling Mom!” Adam says, letting go of Sam’s hand so he can tear off into the kitchen. Apparently the little bit of time he’d spent settling down and painting and waiting today was all coming out right now. Dean can’t say that he blames him, he’s pretty stoked to have Sam back as well. 

“Is it stupid I really want to put this up in my room?” Sam asks after a moment of staring up at the banner. “Wait, don’t answer that. I’m going to do it anyway and I’d prefer to pretend I don’t know your opinion.” 

“You’re lucky you’re still in your hour. I’m tearing you apart after this, I’m going to set a timer.” Being extra nice and careful with Sam is Dean’s initial thought, but it feels wrong. Sam knows how they are, and if Dean is pretending to be different it’s not going to help either of them. It’s not something that can last anyway, Dean would fall back into his old habits and then it would be even more obvious he’d been trying to give Sam some special treatment. 

“Ooh, does that mean I can ask you questions and get real answers? I should have been using this time better from the start.” Dean shoves Sam’s shoulder, shaking his head, grinning when Sam shoves his back. Adam rejoins them to announce the sleepover has been approved, grabbing Sam’s hand and dragging him off on a tour of the rest of the decorations and anything else that could’ve changed while he was gone. Dean finds himself back in the kitchen, helping Kate finish making dinner. 

Every day he warmed up to her a little bit more. She’s been nothing but kind to them the entire time they’ve been here, even as resentful as Dean was about being told what to do when they showed up. Bobby was good to them, but Dean suspects it would have taken a little bit more wandering to find the best way to help Sam. As a nurse, Kate already had an in, and things had gone as smoothly as they could have. She’d sat Dean and Adam down the night before to talk about the meal plans and Sam. It was mostly for Adam, so he could get out his curiosity about Sam’s treatment, but Dean appreciated it too. 

Adam finishes his tour just in time, dragging Sam to the table to show off his chair as Kate and Dean are bringing out the burgers. “Mom, what’s that word for a chair that’s for important people?” Adam questions, climbing into his own chair, elbows on the table. 

“Throne,” Kate says, setting a plate of toppings on the other side of Adam. 

“Yeah! Throne, that’s what we wanted to make it.” Adam settles back on his knees, slowly slipping his legs out from under him when Kate gives him a look across the table. Dean pulls out his own chair and settles, starting to build his burger on his plate. They smelled good while they were cooking, and burgers are one of his favorites, and, more importantly, he’d ended up skipping lunch because he was so anxious about Sam coming back and his stomach is loudly reminding him that it is empty. 

“Honey, why don’t you come eat with us?” John stops in the doorway, another can in his hand. He’d already retrieved two while they’d been cooking dinner, and there’s a droop to the corner of his eyes that tells Dean that they’re already hitting him. 

“Not some fruity low-calorie thing, is it?” he questions, glancing over the table. 

“Just burgers. You need to eat anyway, come on.” Kate takes the extra plate she’d brought to the table and holds it out. An uncomfortable quiet settles over the table as John puts his food together and sits, cracking into his beer and draining half of it before he manages to take a bite. 

“Charlie told me the debate team is dying to have you back,” Dean says once the sound of chewing gets to be too much for him. “She’s been taking turns with Cas, trying to work with Kevin, but he misses you.” 

“Well, thanks to the papers you brought me I was able to keep up pretty well,” Sam answers with a laugh. “We only have a few more left this year, though, I don’t think I can change our fate that much.” 

“They’re still doing alright, I think. Cas said that they had the most awards coming out of the last one, and you qualified for state? Kevin is going to have a lot to tell you.” Dean rips a bite from his burger, fighting not to watch Sam pick his up and take a small, measured bite. 

“State?” John’s voice is gruff, and it makes Dean’s stomach drop a little. Conversations with his dad hadn’t been pleasant lately, and the beer he’s nursing isn’t making this one any more promising. 

“Yeah. Uh, the top teams go compete for a spot in nationals. You can get a scholarship if you win,” Sam explains. Dean catches the way that he looks towards their dad but doesn’t quite meet his eye. 

“Don’t you just stand up there and talk? They’re giving out money for that?” John drops an elbow on the table, tipping back his beer again. “I thought you had to actually work for those things. Guess if they’re just handing them out like this that’s why your brother got one, isn’t it?” 

“You got a scholarship?” Sam questions, looking to Dean. The conversation was painful, Dean hates listening to his dad shit all over something Sam works so hard on, but he doesn’t like having the attention turned on himself either. 

“One of the athletic ones through the school. But that doesn’t mean anything, there’s still a lot I’d have to figure out.” Dean shrugs his shoulders, looking down at his plate. 

“Neither of you willing to work for anything,” John grumbles, and Dean’s throat restricts. He’d told them about the scholarship, but he’d been putting off telling Sam. He’s still afraid something is going to go wrong, and he knows Sam is going to tell him to do it no matter what he needs. 

“I think that’s enough for you,” Kate says sharply, coming around the table and taking John’s beer, disappearing into the kitchen. Dean can hear what little liquid was left in the can be poured in the sink before she returns, forcing a smile. 

“I told you that you’d end up getting one,” Sam says. John busies his mouth with his burger, and Dean feels like he can breathe a little easier again. 

“Cas has been giving me the ‘I told you so’ all week, don’t you start too.” 

“I’ve been telling you so for longer, I’m allowed to keep it,” Sam says, grinning. 

“Done!” Adam shouts, slapping his hands down on the table. “Can I go watch TV?” Dean’s sure he can feel it when the tension settles over the table, even if he doesn’t always catch John’s quips. 

“Yes, why don’t you watch it in your room?” Adam nods and takes off, plate and silverware clattering noisily in the sink before his feet are pattering up the stairs. 

“I think I’m done too,” Sam says, looking down at his plate. Dean wouldn’t say it’s three quarters of his burger, but it’s more than half, and he’d put cheese on it which Dean hadn’t seen him do in ages. 

“You’ve still got food on your plate, son, I don’t think you’re done.” 

“You heard the nutritionist, John, as long as we follow the meal plan we’re okay. Sam had a long day,” Kate defends. Dean’s burger is only half finished in front of him but he’s not as hungry as he was a few minutes ago. 

“A long day? He sat on his ass while some doctor lectured us, sat on his ass in the car, and he’s sitting on his ass here.” Dean glances at his dad, swallowing thickly, itching to get up and run after Adam, but he doesn’t want to leave Sam to fight this on his own, either. It shouldn’t be a fight at all, but apparently John forgot that. 

“We talked about this yesterday. We’re supporting Sam, and it might not look like you think it should, but this is what’s best for him.” Kate holds John’s gaze, her own steely, and Dean feels a wave of respect for her. 

“Babying him? We already shelled out a few thousand dollars to send him to that place and he can’t even eat a hamburger?” 

“Maybe if you’d listened to anything they said today you’d get it,” Sam interjects, hands curled into fists on the table. 

“What’s there to get? Eat the food or don’t, I don’t care, but now you’re making it a problem for everyone else.” 

“Yeah, Dad, I’m so sorry that my mental illness is causing so much trouble for you,” Sam snaps, shoving himself away from the table. 

“Don’t talk to me with that tone,” John replies, pushing himself up as well. Dean swallows thickly, quickly moving to stand as well. 

“What tone? I’ve been working so hard, it’s not my fault if you don’t understand it. That’s your responsibility, not mine.” Sam’s voice is surprisingly even, as is his gaze, a complete contrast to the anger roiling in John’s expression. 

“This is bullshit. Why am I paying to let you live here if this is how you’re going to act?” 

“Because these are your sons, John!” Kate’s standing now too, hands planted on the table. Dean shifts uncomfortably, looking between his dad and Sam again. 

“My sons. Some pansy and an idiot who’s probably going to have to live with us his whole life because he’s not going to be able to take care of himself.” Dean’s stomach clenches, the dinner he had eaten taking an interest in coming back up. The worst part is that his dad isn’t wrong about him, and if anyone was the pansy, that would probably be him too. 

“Maybe you’re the one who needs to leave, then.” John’s head whips towards Kate as she says this, an eerie stillness taking over the room. Dean’s afraid to breathe, frozen as he waits to see what John is going to do. He flinches when John turns, but he just storms out the door, something crashing and ripping in the hall. There’s another bang from somewhere in the living room, and the sound of something shattering. None of them move until they hear the front door slam shut, and even then they’re suspended for a moment, frozen. 

“I can clean up dinner.” Dean’s voice sounds too loud and too soft at the same time. 

“Thank you, Dean. I’m going to go see what your father broke,” Kate says. Now that John is gone, she looks incredibly weary, like all the strength she had was used up in facing him. She heads down the hall, a heavy sigh audible as she comes across whatever was in ruins. 

“My counselor said this was going to happen,” Sam says, turning to the table and starting to pick up plates. “He said Dad feels like I’m a threat. He told Dad that we all needed to go to therapy together and I thought he was going to lose it right there.” 

“I can’t imagine him going to therapy,” Dean admits, gathering the rest of the dishes. “Maybe it would help, though.” 

“Maybe,” Sam replies doubtfully, depositing the plates in the sink and leaning back against the counter. “I’m glad you didn’t try to take his side tonight. You used to do that all the time.” Dean looks down guiltily, swallowing thickly. He did, and he probably would again, if John hadn’t been so obviously cruel. “Hey, my counselor said you should come in some time too, and I’m not letting that one go so easy.” 

“They made you really confident in there, didn’t they?” Dean mutters. He doesn’t need therapy, he just needs to get his act together, but if it’s what Sam needs to get better then Dean could suck it up for a week or two. They finish off the dishes in silence, Sam heading to wipe down the table while Dean puts up the ones that are dry. 

All he wants to do is climb into bed and go to sleep, but when he comes out into the living room, he can’t keep going without helping Kate clean up. She has a pile of framed photos that had been ripped from the wall, half of a vase sitting on top of it. Her eyes were red, and she was very carefully picking up the rest of the pieces. There’s glass all over the floor, and it takes them going over it several times with the vacuum to feel confident that they’ve gotten it all. Sam’s banner was ripped down, several pieces shredded off, and it makes Dean’s chest ache. Why couldn’t their dad just let them have something like this? Something that made them happy? He takes it upon himself to make sure that’s cleaned up. If Adam sees that it would break his heart, he was so proud of their work. 

He heads upstairs feeling irritable and worn out, but like sleep is miles away. He’s rubbing at his eyes when Sam stops him, pulling him away from his door. “Sleepover, remember?” Dean pauses, glancing into his room. His bed looks inviting and familiar, but being alone sounds awful. 

“Let me change and I’ll be right there.” Sam nods, and Dean heads into his room, changing into a pair of flannel pants. One of the hoodies that Castiel had stolen had made its way back because Castiel forgot it last time he was over, and Dean pulls it on. He likes to tease Castiel for his habit, but right now he understands. It’s comforting, knowing he’s being hugged by something that Castiel was wearing, and it carries a warm, sweet scent that follows Cas around. 

Sleep feels a little closer already. Adam is ripping at the streamers, a pile around his feet. Sam raises an eyebrow as Dean comes through the doorway. “Oh, I forgot to tell you that you had a surprise in here.” 

“Are you going to help us un-surprise it?” Sam questions. Adam’s doing a good job of getting the streamers off the bed, but his enthusiasm is creating tiny chunks of confetti Dean’s probably going to have to come in and clean up tomorrow. With Dean’s help, the bed is cleared in only a few minutes and the three of them pile on. It’s too small for two teenage boys, and Adam’s big enough that it takes a lot of squirming around before they can get comfortable. It’s cozy, and after tonight, Dean doesn’t mind that Adam’s laying on his arm and making it fall asleep or that Sam’s ice cold foot brushes up against his leg, he’s just happy that everyone is home. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> mental health really hits creative productivity hard yikes guys 
> 
> Happy 2021 to everyone!!


	19. Chapter 19

It’s still strange to Castiel that Gabriel lives in his own house. They rent it, of course, and it’s him and Luke both, but it’s still very responsible for Gabriel. Castiel hates that he carries the undercurrent of judgement, but it comes from a place of concern. It’s not that he didn’t think Gabriel was capable, he just worried that all these changes at once might’ve been overwhelming. He’d lived with Gabriel his whole life, he knows how he operates. 

Samandriel’s favorite part of the house is the doorbell. Castiel should have kept that in mind before he let Samandriel dash ahead, pressing it as many times as he can before Castiel can grab his hand. “Gabe said I can do it,” Samandriel protests, slumping against Castiel. 

“You did do it,” Castiel points out, ignoring Samandriel’s whine. It’s only a few seconds before Gabriel is opening the door, a rush of warm, sweet smelling air rushing out. Last time Samandriel had barrelled into him so enthusiastically he’d knocked them both over. Gabriel is a little more prepared this time, still stumbling back a few steps but managing to stay on his feet. 

“Gabe! I learned how to make a keychain and I brought one for you! And you said that I could have unicorn brownies this time!” 

“I did say that, didn’t I?” Gabriel replies. The smile he gives Samandriel looks weary, and there are circles under his eyes that make Castiel’s stomach clench slightly. “Good thing I have some ready for you.” Castiel toes his shoes off by the door, following Gabriel into the kitchen. It’s no surprise that it had smelled so good when he greeted them. The counters are covered in a variety of baked goods. 

“Is this all for school?” Castiel questions with an eyebrow raised. He’s impressed with Samandriel’s focus, beelining to the colorful brownies, about to shove his hand into it before Gabriel pulls the pan away. 

“Hey, come on, at least sit down before you start digging in.” Samandriel pouts, dragging his feet towards the table. “We can eat on the couch, though,” he tacks on, which brings Samandriel’s mood right back around and he’s already off to claim a spot. “These croissants were for school, and I promised Samandriel I’d make him brownies.” Gabriel glances over the countertop again, pursing his lips. “And then I decided I’d just bake until Luke got home.” 

“You didn’t sleep last night, did you?” Castiel questions softly. 

“I might never sleep again. Look at all the shit I can get done,” Gabriel says, clearly forcing another smile on his face. 

“Have you heard from him?” The look on Gabriel’s face is answer enough, but he shakes his head. 

“How long?” Castiel asks, moving to one of the cabinets and pulling out a large plastic cup to fill with milk. Things had been going so well, he’d almost let up on his worries that this was going to happen. 

“Let’s take these out to Mandy and then we can talk about it. He’s going to lose his mind otherwise,” Gabriel says, starting towards the living room. Castiel suspects he just doesn’t want Samandriel running back in and hearing anything unsavory about Luke. There are two sofas in the living room, one grey suede that actually looks very nice, and an absolutely hideous floral disaster. The first time Castiel had come over, he didn’t even say anything and Gabriel was quick to jump to the defense of the floral sofa. It was comfortable, he said, and they could pry it out of his cold, dead hands. Samandriel seems to agree because he always chooses to sit there. 

His eyes go wide when Gabriel sets the pan of brownies in his lap and hands him a fork. Castiel might normally object, and he’s pretty sure on the ride home he’s going to regret not objecting, but it’ll keep Samandriel occupied for a while. He leaves the cup of milk on the coffee table, glancing towards the television. It’s already playing cartoons. They could’ve been going before they got there or Samandriel might have turned them on, but either way he’s settled for now. 

Castiel tails Gabriel back into the kitchen, stopping at the counter to grab himself a cinnamon roll and a cookie, settling down at the table. “So?” he prompts, tearing a piece of the cinnamon roll off and stuffing it into his mouth. 

“Luke left the night before last. Went to work. He sent me a text after saying someone he knew was in town and they were going to grab dinner, so he’d be back late.” Gabriel stacks himself a plate full of sweets and joins Castiel at the table. “I wasn’t that worried when I didn’t hear from him that night, I just went to bed and figured he’d be here in the morning. But he wasn’t, and he hasn’t been answering his phone.” Gabriel sighs heavily, picking a cookie from his plate, stuffing the entire thing into his mouth in one go. Well, at least Gabriel’s manners hadn’t changed.

“Did you call his job?” Castiel fights to keep himself from thinking that this is exactly what he was afraid would happen. At least all Gabriel had done last night was bake, but there’s a pit of concern in Castiel’s chest. 

“Yeah. They said he was there the whole shift, seemed fine.” Gabriel shrugs his shoulders, rubbing his hand over his face. “I just… I should’ve thought, when he said that he was meeting someone he knew. I should’ve said  _ something _ , or checked in sooner.” 

“Gabe, it’s not your fault. Luke makes his own choices.” 

“He’s been doing so good though. We’re paying rent on time every month, he hasn’t missed a shift at work. He’s even been going to these addicts anonymous meetings, and I guess I just thought… I don’t know, that he’d just be better now.” Gabriel pushes his hand through his hair, shaking his head. “I’m not stupid. I know that’s not how it works, but I just hoped…” 

“You’re not stupid,” Castiel agrees softly. “I hoped so too. Making a mistake doesn’t mean that he’s giving up, though. I can see burnt cupcakes right there, but that didn’t stop you from trying again, did it?” 

“Cupcakes aren’t the same as drugs, Cas,” Gabriel mutters, but he picks up one of the good cupcakes and inspects it. “You think he’s gonna come back?” 

“I think you’re the only person Luke actually likes, I’m pretty sure he will.” More than liking Gabriel, Cas thinks he might be the only person Luke really trusts. He’d never wavered in backing him up, he’d always been the one to reach out to him and make sure he was okay. 

“Ugh, I hate this. I feel like Mom.” Gabriel pulls a face so disgusted that Castiel can’t help but laugh. 

“You haven’t started telling me how hard this is on you yet, so I think you’re still safe.” That earns a small smile from Gabriel, a win in Castiel’s eyes. 

“Don’t tempt me, I could start any minute.” Gabriel settles back in his chair, peeling the wrapper off his cupcake and again managing to stuff most of it in his mouth in a single bite. 

Castiel glances around the kitchen, raising an eyebrow. “What are you going to do with all this, anyway?” Nearly every single counter is covered, everything from the croissants he started with to muffins and pies. 

“Eat it.” 

“I wouldn’t normally question your eating abilities but this might be a little much even for you,” Castiel says. He’s seen Gabriel pack away an entire dozen cupcakes on his own and come down for dinner two hours later, but he’d be hard pressed to eat all his creations without getting sick or some of them going bad. 

“Cas, if you want to take some home you can just ask instead of insulting me.” Gabriel twists in his seat, pointing to a stack of aluminium pans and tupperware. “I already picked some out for you. I don’t know if you were aware but your boyfriend loses his mind for pie so I thought I’d let you deliver those.” 

“I am aware, I was here last time when you gave him a slice.” Anyone else, Castiel might’ve accused of overacting and trying not to hurt Gabriel’s feelings, but he’s pretty sure Dean was genuine, especially because he wouldn’t stop talking about it on the drive home. 

“There’s a cafe at the school that you can sell your stuff to, though. I’m going to take some in tomorrow. Sometimes you can even get some extra credit for it, can’t hurt,” Gabriel says, pushing himself up and restocking his plate. “Want to go see if Samandriel’s sugar rush hit yet?” 

“I hope so. If it has, maybe he’ll crash on the way back.” Luckily, Samandriel’s sugar high doesn’t result in much more than him being extra talkative and bombing Castiel with every question that comes to his mind. He grabs another cookie to add to his plate, following Gabriel back to the living room. 

“I’ll trade you some brownie for a cupcake,” Gabriel offers as he settles himself down next to Samandriel on the sofa. Almost half the pan is already gone, and Castiel makes a note to ask Gabriel for a bag on the way back because he wouldn’t be surprised if Samandriel ended up getting sick. Samandriel, on the other hand, hasn’t seemed to notice anything except the opportunity to get a new treat, sliding the pan over to Gabriel and holding his hands out for a cupcake. “So, did you get any more acceptance letters this week?” 

“Yeah. I’ve heard back from KU, Emporia State, and Baker so far. I think Baker kind of accepts everyone, though, they’re so expensive,” Castiel says, wrinkling his nose up. It’s nice, getting into schools, but at the same time it incites panic. He still doesn’t really know what he’s going to do, or where he wants to go. He should feel relieved that his parents are willing to pay for it, but it just makes him feel like there’s that much more pressure to make the right choice. 

“I don’t want you to go to college,” Samandriel says, green frosting coating his lips. “Then I’ll be stuck with Anna and Mom most the time, I don’t wanna be the only boy.” 

“Michael will still be there for a while.” Samandriel gives Gabriel a very pointed look, so much sass on his little face, and Gabriel bursts out laughing. “Yeah, okay, I get it.” 

“I’ll probably stay somewhere close, anyway,” Castiel replies, giving his brother a small smile. 

“Mom isn’t going to get up in time to take anyone to school, she’ll probably make you come back and do it,” Gabriel cracks before he stuffs a large chunk of brownie into his mouth. 

“Anna walks to school most the time anyway,” Castiel replies, shrugging his shoulders and breaking into another cookie on his plate. His stomach is going to hurt later too, but it’s hard to stop eating Gabriel’s treats, especially when they’re so abundant. “We took the bus for a few years, it wasn’t that bad.” 

“Wasn’t that bad? I loved the bus. That was probably my favorite part of the entire day!” Gabriel was always loud and boisterous on the bus, moving between groups of friends, laughing and joking and usually getting in trouble for not staying in his seat while Castiel usually had a book open and was trying his hardest to ignore everyone else. 

“You know, Adam might need to take the bus next year too,” Castiel muses, and Samandriel’s face lights up. 

“We could be bus buddies!” Samandriel exclaims, eyes going wide. Castiel loves that Samandriel and Adam are such good friends, they seem to balance each other out nicely. The fact that he gets to use bringing Samandriel over as an excuse to see Dean more often is just a nice bonus. Gabriel tugs his phone out of his pocket, glancing at the screen, something that immediately catches Samandriel’s attention. “Can I play a game on your phone?” 

“Not right now,” Gabriel says, the closest to a direct no that Samandriel really ever gets from him. He sets the phone on the coffee table, holding the brownie pan back out to Samandriel. “You can have some more unicorn brownies though.” Samandriel takes the pan eagerly, but his fork hovers just before he digs in. 

“Gabe?” Samandriel questions, voice soft and cautious. 

“What’s up?” 

“There’s not actual unicorns in here, right?” Castiel can see the corner of Gabriel’s mouth twitch but he manages to hold it in. 

“No, I just make my batter different colors. Remember when we made those cookies for Christmas that were green? It’s like that.” Samandriel nods, but he still looks doubtful as he turns back to the pan, like now that the idea is in his head it’s stuck there. 

“So… I could make unicorn brownies too?” he asks, glancing at Castiel briefly before looking back up at Gabriel. 

“Absolutely. You’re almost done with that pan, what do you say we go make another one for you guys to take home?” Gabriel questions, already pushing himself off the sofa. He could be very sedentary when he wanted to be, but when nervous energy took hold Castiel knows that he can keep going for what seems like forever. 

“Last time it made my hands green,” Samandriel states, sliding off the cushion, turning to hand Castiel the pan. “Can I make my hands blue this time?” 

“I think we can,” Gabriel answers. He still looks stressed and worn out, but Castiel is glad to see a smile on his face, listening to him and Samandriel disappear into the kitchen. He’s not much of a cook himself, so he just settles back, half-watching the television and picking at the brownies. They are very good, he can see why Samandriel made his way through so much of them by himself. 

Castiel takes his phone out, texting Dean to let him know that there was pie coming to him. He is met with an onslaught of messages in reply, what looks like every image Dean could find of someone screaming. Castiel is halfway through typing a reply when he’s interrupted by a quiet buzz. Gabriel’s phone skitters across the table, buzzing lowly again. Castiel peeks at the screen, surprised to see Luke’s name. Picking the phone up, he considers taking it in to Gabriel, but he can hear him laughing with Samandriel and he kind of wants to get a word in himself. Before he can second guess his choice, Castiel picks up the phone and answers. 

“Hello.” It sounds formal and stiff, but a lot of what Castiel says seems to come out that way. 

“Uh… Cas? Is that you?” Luke sounds surprised, which Castiel supposes makes sense considering it is Gabriel that he called. 

“Yes.” There’s a beat of silence before Castiel realizes he should probably explain. “He’s baking, he left his phone in the living room.” 

“Oh.” Another moment of silence before Luke clears his throat. “I’m at my sponsor’s place. From AA. I had a… a friend come visit, and…” Luke trails off, and Castiel lets the sentence hang for a minute. 

“Someone who wasn’t a very good influence?” he suggests. 

“No, no, it’s... “ Luke cuts off with another sigh. “Sorry, I’m still just trying to figure this out, and my brain feels like it’s on fire, but that’s my own fault. The friend is a girl I saw out in Florida, before I went into rehab. She’s one of the people who talked me into it, actually. ” 

“Luke, I’m not really following why this is a problem,” Castiel says, keeping his voice low, glancing towards the kitchen. Samandriel shrieks and another peal of Gabriel’s laughter echoes after. 

“She’s… Fuck, Cas, she’s pregnant. I can’t be a dad! I can’t even hold it together for one night, how the hell am I supposed to be a  _ dad _ ?” Hysteria creeps into Luke’s voice, pitch wavering. 

“Whoa, hold on. She’s pregnant? Does she… I mean, does she know it’s yours?” The question feels gross in his mouth, like Luke should just push this off on someone else, but Luke was just figuring things out himself. 

“Yeah. We were kind of… Look, I never told Gabe, but we were living together. I didn’t want him to get his hopes up that I’d keep my shit together. I didn’t, so I guess that was the right call,” Luke answers with a dry laugh. 

“You’ve made a few mistakes, sure. But you’ve been working on it. Going to rehab was a big step, and you said you’re at your sponsors now, right? You could have just taken off or tried to keep it a secret.” Castiel’s never been the one to try to talk Luke down, but he’s always felt guilty that always seemed to fall to Gabriel. 

“I guess. This just feels like the worst time to fuck this up,” Luke says with a huff. 

“I know. You’ve got me and Gabriel, though, and your sponsor, and maybe even this girl. Mom and Dad might be assholes, but you’re not alone.” Castiel’s been lucky not to butt heads with their parents as much as some of his siblings. They’re his parents, and he loves them, but he knows that they’re not always the greatest. 

“Thanks, Cas. That means a lot,” Luke replies, before letting out a heavy sigh again. “This is kind of shitty of me, but would you mind just telling Gabriel I’m okay? I know he’ll be cool about it, but I’m just…” 

“I can do that, but you should call him tomorrow. He’ll feel better hearing it from you.” 

“I know, I know. I just need to sleep the rest of this off and then maybe I can pull my head out of my ass and talk to him about it. Thanks, Cas.” 

“You’re welcome. I’ll talk to you soon, okay?” They’d been keeping in touch more now, especially since Castiel comes out to visit. It might primarily be to see Gabriel, but he likes getting to see Luke, too, and he doesn’t want him to disappear back into the void he’d fallen into the last few years. 

“Talk soon,” Luke agrees. Castiel hangs up and sets Gabriel’s phone back on the table, taking his time just staring and listening to his brothers in the kitchen. It wasn’t necessarily the news Castiel expected, but it could be worse. 

***

“There’s half an inch of snow, Dean, I can walk.” Half an inch is a generous measurement for the slushy, watery mess around them. Late snows never lasted long before they became gross. 

“Not in your fancy shoes,” Dean replies, giving Castiel’s legs a squeeze. He’s very much aware that Dean was just using it as an excuse to pick him up, and he’s pretty happy to tighten his arms around Dean’s neck and stay right there.

“They’re not fancy, they’re just not boots,” Castiel answers, resting his chin on Dean’s shoulder. 

“Hey, there’s nothing wrong with my boots!” 

“I didn’t say there was, you’re the one making fun of my shoes.” Castiel can just see the toes of Dean’s boots as they head to the front door, scuffed and dirty. He can’t imagine Dean wearing loafers, very much like he can’t imagine himself wearing boots like that. 

“I’m not making fun of them, I’m protecting them,” Dean defends, pushing the door open and stepping inside, letting Castiel slide off his back. 

“Oh, my hero, thank you so much.” Castiel toes his loafers off, nudging them towards the pile of shoes that are always near the door. 

“That didn’t sound very sincere,” Dean says, wriggling his boots off and dropping them haphazardly in the pile as well. Castiel rolls his eyes, coming towards Dean and wrapping his arms around his neck again, this time pressing up against his front and bumping their noses together. 

“How can I ever repay such a kind, handsome hero?” he questions. He can see Dean’s cheeks going pink from here. Teasing seems to be his go-to, but often when Castiel turns it back on him he gets flustered. 

“I don’t know, but we have like, two hours to decide,” Dean answers, arms settling around Castiel’s waist. 

“How did you get out of family counselling?” He usually hears when Dean is expected to go, because he’s generally complaining. He never lets Sam hear, though, and the complaints don’t seem to have much heart. 

“It’s just Kate, Dad, and Sam. Adam’s at boy scouts, they’re going to pick him up after. Which means we’ve got the place to ourselves until then,” Dean says with a grin, dipping down to press a brief kiss to Castiel’s lips. “And we’re starting it off with pizza bagels.” 

“I don’t think I’ve ever had pizza bagels,” Castiel says, and that shocked expression he often gets from Dean whenever he says he doesn’t know about something hits the other’s face. 

“Cas! I could live on pizza bagels. How have you made it this far in life?” Castiel lets his arms slip from around Dean’s neck, taking his hand and allowing himself to be dragged into the kitchen. 

“Some of us don’t need pizza bagels to survive,” Castiel replies, watching in mild surprise as Dean tugs the freezer open. He really should have expected for it to be a microwave product, but for some reason he didn’t. 

“That’s not true, you just don’t know that you needed them.” Dean rips the packaging open and sticks the little silver tray they’re sitting on into the microwave. Admittedly, almost everything Dean has introduced him to has turned out to be really good. Castiel gives the microwave another skeptical glance before he leans back against the counter. He tries to pretend he wasn’t asking for Dean to cage him in with his arms, but he grins so wide when the other does it probably gives him away. 

“Eventually you’re going to run out of things I haven’t tried.” Castiel’s arms come right back up around Dean’s neck, aware they only have a few minutes before he’ll have to pull away again but happy to take advantage of each and every second he gets. 

“I dunno, babe. I never would have guessed pizza bagels. I thought every kid had pizza bagels. It’s supposed to be the end of the week dinner when the adults don’t want to cook.” 

“And now it’s the middle of the week dinner when the adult doesn’t want to cook,” Castiel points out, brushing one hand up through the back of Dean’s hair. 

“It’s not dinner, it’s a snack. That’s different,” Dean insists, effectively stopping any argument Castiel could have with a kiss. The microwave beeps too soon for Castiel’s liking, reluctantly dropping his arms so Dean can move to get his snack out. “Sodas?” 

“I’ll grab them. You want Coke, bug?” 

“Yeah. There’s orange soda in there for you. I grabbed some last time I was at the store and they should last because nobody else likes gross drinks,” Dean replies with a grin, waiting until Castiel has the two cans in hand before they head to the living room. 

“At some point you’re going to have to stop telling me everything I like is gross if you want me to keep dating you.” There’s plenty of room for them to spread out on the sofa, which Dean takes full advantage of, one knee bent under him and the other leg stretched out long across the cushions. Castiel takes a more conservative pose, leaning against the arm and turning towards Dean, crossing his legs. 

“I’ve actually been looking for a way out, it’s taken longer than I thought it would. I can’t believe you’re not ready to dump me yet,” Dean says, bumping Castiel’s knee with his foot. 

“Well now that I know it’s what you want, I’m definitely not going to do it. You’re going to have to dump me if you really want out of this so bad.” There’s a little voice in the back of Castiel’s head that’s screaming at him for tempting fate, for even suggesting that Dean should dump him. He’s reassured almost immediately, though, when his boyfriend turns his gaze to him, eyes soft and a little grin on his lips that still makes Castiel’s heart jump into his throat. 

“You’re lucky I still feel like sharing my pizza bagels,” he says, holding the tray out. “I’ll even let you try the first one.” Castiel peers at the tray, picking one up carefully. The little cheese cubes on the top have half melted onto the tray, and the pepperoni is in weird cubes too. 

“Are they supposed to be mini?” 

“They’re bite sized, dude. You’re supposed to eat it one go, like this.” Dean stuffs his into his mouth, cheeks pushing out just a little. “Bite ‘ized,” he reiterates, giving Castiel another grin. There’s sauce on his lip as he chews noisily and Castiel is reminded again that he should probably not find that as cute as he does. 

More and more often, lately, when Castiel notices these little things that he is so enamored with, his mind tries to supply the reason. A certain four letter word that he’s sure as hell not going to dump on Dean right now, but it fills his chest with warmth as he watches the other. “Hey. Stop staring at me and try your pizza,” Dean says, more clear now that he’s swallowed most of what was in his mouth. When it’s just the two of them, Castiel doesn’t even bother to feel embarrassed for being caught staring. He’s caught Dean doing it too, so they’re even. He turns his attention to the pizza bagel, taking Dean’s lead and shoving it into his mouth. It takes a moment for him to swallow around the gummy dough, clearing his throat. 

“That doesn’t taste like a bagel.” Castiel’s learned not to take offense when Dean bursts out laughing at something that isn’t supposed to be funny, but he does lift his eyebrow expectantly. “What?” 

“They’re not really supposed to taste like a bagel, that’s the point,” Dean replies, still grinning as he cracks open his soda and takes a gulp, promptly burping as soon as he lowers the can. 

“Very classy,” Castiel replies dryly, reaching for his own can to hide his smile. Dean doesn’t bother refuting, popping another pizza bagel into his mouth instead. 

“Speaking of classy, did you hear about Andrew’s promposal today? He was standing in the parking lot bare ass naked and some sign. I think it said ‘I’m not putting my clothes on until you go with me to prom.’ Anyway, before Jenny could see it one of the teachers told him he had to get dressed or leave.” Dean takes another swig of soda, chasing it down with another bagel. “I wonder if she said yes.” 

“I don’t understand the point of those,” Castiel says, reaching a hand out, taking another bagel from the tray as Dean holds it out. This time he follows instinct and actually takes a bite, not missing the incredibly not subtle roll of Dean’s eyes. 

“What, you don’t think it’s cute? You wouldn’t go to prom with me if I got naked in the parking lot?” Dean questions, grinning. 

“I’ve only seen you naked once, I don’t want everyone else to be tied with me. Besides, I don’t think I want to go to prom at all.” Castiel picks one of the cheese cubes off that has retained its shape, trying it by itself and not surprised to find it has no flavor. 

“You don’t want to go to prom?” Dean looks genuinely hurt, eyebrows drawn together and the corners of his mouth turning down. 

“I wouldn’t think you would want to,” Castiel replies, raising an eyebrow. 

“It’s kind of stupid, but you only get one shot at it. Might as well take it, right?” Dean shrugs his shoulders, finishing off the last on the tray and setting it aside. “You really think you’d tell me no if I had some wild promposal scheme up my sleeve?” 

“Yes.” Castiel’s lying and he knows Dean can see right through him, but he tries to keep his gaze steady even as Dean shifts onto his knees, moving towards Castiel. 

“I don’t think you would, Novak.” 

“You really want to test me, Winchester?” Castiel’s really, really not doing a lot to support his case when he straightens his legs out so Dean can climb over them. His hands come to the arm of the couch, caging Castiel in like he had at the counter. 

“Sounds like a challenge now,” Dean answers with a smirk, and that’s it for Castiel. His arms are right back up around Dean’s neck, pulling him down so he can kiss that smirk right off his lips. As soon as Dean mentioned having the place to themselves, Castiel assumed this would happen at some point, and he’s glad it’s sooner than later. After a moment, he shifts his hands down Dean’s back, encouraging him to move closer, straddling Castiel’s thighs. 

There’s a lot of things Castiel loves about Dean, like how much he cares about his family and the way that he can talk about cowboys for hours and the time he’d ‘accidentally’ dropped some money in front of a kid who couldn’t buy lunch. Those are all amazing, but Castiel also appreciates the fact that Dean is  _ hot _ . Especially so in his lap, sucking on Castiel’s bottom lip and letting out a pleased hum as Castiel’s hands wander, passing Dean’s ass to slide down his legs a little ways. He might not work out or eat the healthiest but he’s young and fit, and hockey really does something to his thighs that Castiel is really appreciating under his hands right now. 

If they hadn’t been so caught up in each other, maybe one of them would have heard the key slide into the lock. They might have pulled back when the handle turned, and Castiel probably wouldn’t have let out a soft sound as he pulled Dean forward on his lap. It isn’t until John’s voice cuts through the air, sharp and angry, that they’re shocked apart. “What the fuck is this?” 

“Dad, it’s not- I-” Dean’s voice is rough and cracking, his eyes wide. Tension rockets through his body, limbs going stiff above Castiel. 

“It’s not what? You think I’m that fucking stupid?” John’s gesturing wildly with his hand, a bottle of some dark liquor clutched in his fist. The little sway as he steps forward makes Castiel think that all of this missing liquid has gone down John’s throat. 

“You weren’t supposed to be home yet.” Castiel realizes that his hands are still resting on Dean’s legs and he pulls them back, flinching as John storms around the sofa and grabs the back of Dean’s shirt, yanking him off the couch. 

“You and your brother both, you’re disappointments. Don’t know why the hell we let you come back here, you’re going to ruin our lives!” Castiel feels paralyzed with fear. There’s been shouting and arguing that turned ugly at their house before, but never like this. John shoves Dean away and he stumbles, moving towards Castiel and grabbing his hand to tug him up. 

“Cas, you need to go,” he says urgently, eyes flitting between John and Castiel as he ushers him towards the door. 

“Come with me, I can’t-” Castiel cuts off when something smashes into the wall behind him. He glances towards John, who is already reaching for another figurine from the shelf. 

“Go!” Dean is pushing him, and John is yelling again, something about Dean being disgusting and how he can’t be his son. Castiel stumbles over his feet, nearly running into the door as Dean rips it open. He’s still off balance when the other gives him a final shove out the door, something else shattering against it as it’s closed. 

“Dean! Dean, let me in!” Castiel pleads, reaching for the handle, but it’s already locked. He bangs his fists on the door a few times, feeling sick as he listens to the muffled sound of John’s continuing tirade. He stands outside the door until his socks are soaked through, finally turning and shuffling towards his car. The terrified look on Dean’s face before he shut the door is imprinted on his eyelids, his chest tight and heavy. He’s never been more lost in his life. 


	20. Chapter 20

Dean is surprised he hasn't cried. Maybe his body is too busy assessing the other aches and pains to worry about his feelings. His lip is throbbing where it’s split, and his right eye is so swollen he can hardly see out of it. The bandages he’s wrapped around his arm already feel sticky and he knows he’s going to need stitches there, but right now he’s not moving. 

It had taken him about 20 minutes to clean up all the mess before he’d drug himself upstairs and into his bed. He should reach out to Castiel, but at some point John had flung his phone across the room, leaving the screen shattered and flashing different colors. His laptop feels too far away right now. Everything feels too far away, like his brain is dealing with all of this by simply shutting down. He doesn’t know how long he lays there before he hears the door open downstairs. Adam’s footsteps soon come pounding past his room. There’s a light knock at the door a few moments later. 

“Whatever you guys are doing, you better stop. I’m coming in,” Sam calls out. 

“Go away, Sam.” Dean shouts it probably a little too loudly. He’ll have to face them at some point but he’s looking forward to putting it off for as long as possible. That turns out not to be very long at all because Sam’s pushing the door open a moment later.

“Where’s Cas?” he questions, sounding miffed.

“He’s not here,” Dean mutters, keeping his gaze trained on the ceiling. “Couldn’t make it over today.” He can hear the exact moment Sam focuses on his face, the sharp intake of breath giving him away. 

“Dean, what happened?” he questions, face coming into view as he leans over Dean. Closing his eyes, Dean gives his shoulders the most nonchalant shrug he can muster. 

“Got in a fight.” 

“When? I saw you before we left, you didn’t look like this.” Dean tries to hold his arm down folded over his chest as Sam takes his wrist, trying to inspect the bandaging. “Castiel didn’t do this, did he?” The laugh that rips out of Dean’s throat almost hurts, or his throat is just raw from the screaming match he had with his dad, he’s not sure. 

“No, he didn’t. I told you he couldn’t come over today anyway.” Dean doesn’t really know why he’s lying. It would be easy to say he was here for a little while and then had to leave, but lying about it makes Dean feel like he can get some distance from what actually happened. If he doesn’t say anything about it, it can just go away. The side of the bed dips as Sam settles next to him, going silent. “Are you just going to sit there and stare?” Dean snaps. Immediately, he feels bad. It’s not Sam’s fault he feels like shit right now, but he really, truly does and he’d be perfectly content to spend the rest of the night moping by himself. 

“Dad didn’t make it to counseling today,” Sam says, sidestepping Dean’s question. 

“That sucks.” 

“I saw his car here. Guess he got home early.” 

“Mmhmm.” There’s a lump in Dean’s throat that’s hard to swallow around. With his eyes closed, he keeps replaying the afternoon, how angry his dad looked and how merciless he was in bringing his fist down against Dean’s face. 

“He’s probably drunk, too. I saw a bottle downstairs. It’s been a while since he’s gone right to whiskey.” Sam shifts, making the bed move again, and Dean’s back smarts. He’s been sore before, but never quite this bad. 

“Yeah, Dad sucks, I get it.” Dean’s snapping again, pressing his lips in a thin line and shaking his head, which he almost immediately regrets. Sam stays quiet for a long moment, but Dean holds out stubbornly. What is he supposed to do? Apologize to Sam for being an ass? Apologize to his dad for being gay? Apologize to Cas for shoving him out the door so his dad didn’t beat his ass too? 

Sam’s the one who breaks the silence, voice soft. “Castiel’s shoes are downstairs.” Dean gives his shoulders a little shrug again, even though his stomach twists uncomfortably. Fuck, Cas didn’t even have shoes when Dean booted him out into the cold, all because he was too much of a wimp to come out to his dad and it had blown up in his face. 

“Must’ve left them some time,” he mutters, crossing his arms over his chest a little more tightly. 

“His shoes, Dean? Really?” 

“Yeah he… he borrowed some of mine one time. Can you lay off? I told you he wasn’t fucking here.” Dean finally opens his eyes (well, the one that will open), frowning at Sam. 

“You’re being a jerk,” Sam replies, not moving from his spot on the bed, instead twisting a little to face Dean. “There were footprints outside, too. Cas was here, I’m not stupid. Dad caught you guys, didn’t he?” Dean wants to deny it, but that lump in his throat seems to have gotten even bigger and he can’t get his voice to move past it. The small shake of his head does more to confirm Sam’s words that refute. Sam practically launches himself off the bed, another jolt that hurts. 

“I  _ knew _ it. Dean, this is bullshit. He’s been terrible to us the whole time we’ve been here and now he’s doing this,” Sam says, gesturing towards Dean’s face. “I’m telling Kate.” 

“No!” Ignoring the protests of his body, Dean sits up, reaching out for Sam’s arm. “No, don’t tell her.”

“Why the hell not?” 

“Because…” Dean swallows thickly again, trying to figure out how to answer when he isn’t even sure himself. “Maybe if I just move out he’ll be less stressed and stop drinking, you and Adam can have your dad then. I don’t want to start another fight between him and Kate.” 

“Dean, if he did this to you, he’ll do it to us,” Sam replies, yanking his arm from Dean’s grip and starting towards the door. 

“Sammy, no, please wait!” Dean scrambles up off the bed, stumbling after his brother only to run straight into him, surprisingly still in the hall. One look over his shoulder tells Dean why. Kate stands in front of them, hands on her hips and lips pursed. She looks to Dean, eyes skating over his face, likely taking in the damage. 

“Adam!” Her voice is so loud Dean flinches, heart and mind racing. They’d been doing good before he and Sam had showed up. John wasn’t drinking so much, and Kate had her son with him, and they were doing the whole nuclear family thing, and now she had two extra kids around she probably didn’t want and they were fucking up John and it would be so much easier for her if she just kicked them out again because they were fucked up themselves. He can barely hear what she says to Adam, there’s such loud ringing in his ears, but he sees both Sam and Adam start for Sam’s room. He moves to follow them, stomach absolutely lurching when Kate places a hand on his shoulder instead. 

“I’m sorry,” he croaks out, giving his head a sharp little shake. “It was my fault, I-” 

“It was not your fault,” Kate says fiercely, hand coming up to clasp Dean’s other shoulder and turn him towards her. “This is not your fault. Nothing that you could have done would warrant this.” 

“But if I-” 

“Dean.” Kate cuts him off again, shaking her head. “John is your father. Even if he wasn’t, it’s never, ever okay for someone to do this to you, do you understand?” The tears Dean had been waiting for earlier are trying to creep up now, eyes burning. “You are dating Castiel, aren’t you?” Dean swallows thickly, nodding. “John found out.” It’s not a question this time, but Dean gives another small nod of his head. 

“I didn’t think he was going to come home yet.” Dean’s voice sounds small and weak, the feeling of detachment muting it even further in his ears. The anger that flashes across Kate’s face is even more murderous than the expression John had been wearing towering over him. 

“This never should have happened. I knew he was sliding back,” she mutters, giving Dean’s shoulders a squeeze. “I wish I would’ve stepped in sooner so you wouldn’t have to endure this, but I want to make it very, very clear that you’ve done nothing wrong here. I love you and your brothers. You deserve so much better than this.” That does it for Dean, hot tears spilling over and burning down his cheeks. “Come here,” she offers. Dean is quick to take the invitation, falling into her arms and sobbing softly against her shoulder. 

“I’m sorry,” he chokes out, voice thick and managing to crack twice in the simple words. 

“You’ve got nothing to be sorry about,” Kate replies, squeezing her arms gently around Dean. “Nothing at all.” With a gentle kiss to his temple, she pulls back, hands returning to Dean’s shoulders. “Go to Sam’s room with your brothers. None of you come out until I tell you to, got it?” Not trusting his voice, Dean nods. Kate gives a final squeeze to his shoulders before she lets him go. She waits until Dean is in the room and has the door shut before he hears her head down the stairs. 

“Why does your face look like that?” Adam questions. The absolute lack of shame he has in asking almost makes Dean want to smile. 

“I met some ninjas on the way home,” Dean answers, wandering over to Sam’s bed and dropping himself on it. 

“Ninjas don’t live in Kansas,” Adam says, very matter of fact. 

“No? Where do they live?” 

“Nobody knows ‘cause they’re good at hiding. They can’t tell people where they live. That would ruin it.” Again, Adam states it very confidently, and this time Dean can’t stop himself smiling softly. 

“That was actually a secret ninja test. They’re glad you’re keeping their secrets.” Adam’s eyes narrow as he looks at Dean before he nods slowly, climbing up onto the bed at sitting himself on Dean’s stomach. It’s not comfortable regularly and right now Dean’s body has a lot of complaints, but he let’s Adam settle there. “Hey, Sam, can I borrow your phone?” 

“Use your own phone,” Sam replies. 

“I can’t. It… uh, I broke it.” Sam opens his mouth like he’s going to argue, but at the same moment looks at Dean's face and it must be enough to convince him that Dean might not need any sass right now. He walks it over instead, placing the phone in Dean’s hand. Castiel is already up towards the top of Sam’s messages, something that warms Dean. It’s not like someone he dates has to be buddies with his little brother, but it’s nice that’s the way that it is. 

**Sam:** hey, it’s dean. my phone went to shit 

**Castiel:** are you okay? What halppened? I could hear yeleling before i left i was so worrried 

**Sam:** lol cas are you drunk? 

“Hey, Adam, do you want to come play Roblox on my computer?” Sam offers, heading back towards his desk. “You can show me the new worlds.” Dean grunts softly as Adam springs off his stomach, hurrying towards the desk. 

“There’s a new theme park one where you can run on the roller coaster,” Adam says excitedly. Somehow there’s enough room for both of them on Sam’s desk chair as he pulls up the game. Dean turns his attention back to the phone, scrolling up to see what Sam and Castiel talk about. It’s mostly debate, a long discussion about Shakespeare, and a single message from Sam that just says ‘Dean is an ass’ that Castiel was kind enough to answer with a frowny face and nothing else. The phone buzzes softly and Dean quickly makes his way back to the new message. 

**Castiel:** No im just ttrying to type to fast you didn’t answerj my questions are you okay??? 

**Sam:** im ok, promise. i’ll tell you about it tomorrow, k? 

**Castiel:** Okay, tomorrow 

**Castiel: ❤️**

**Sam:** ❤️ 

Usually Dean would have a few more hesitations sending something mushy on his brother’s phone, but right now he can’t find it in himself to care. He sets the phone aside, watching Sam and Adam for a moment. There’s a loud bang he recognizes as the door out the garage, and silence. At least whatever fighting Kate and John were going to do they weren’t going to hear. Slowly, Dean closes his eyes and rests his head back against the pillows. With the soft chatter of Sam and Adam playing in the background, he finds he’s able to drift into a light sleep. 

***

It’s been ages since someone has dropped Dean off at school. Bobby only did that for a handful of years, then it was the bus, or walking, and finally, Dean driving himself. For some reason, Kate didn’t think that he should be driving with one eye swollen shut. She had even offered to call Dean in for the day, which he’d usually be all over, but he wants to see Castiel. 

Climbing out of the car after Sam, Dean gives Kate a somewhat awkward wave before he turns towards the school, adjusting his bag on his shoulder. He can spot Castiel’s car as easily as his own, even though it is a pretty innocuous little Honda. There’s a familiar tuft of dark hair Dean spots over the top of the car. It takes Dean a moment to name the tightness in his chest as nerves. What if this is a breaking point for Castiel? He wouldn’t blame him, if his dad storming in and screaming at them was too much. He hesitates another moment before he rounds the front of the car, taking a deep breath. 

“Boo.” Castiel’s gaze snaps towards him, an already worried expression crumpling into the most devastated look Dean has ever seen. “What? Something on my face?” The attempt at a joke falls flat, Castiel instead pushing himself away from the car and coming to wrap his arms around Dean tightly. It hurts. Castiel is squeezing so hard it would probably hurt even if he wasn’t sore, but he gets his arms back around the other and presses his face into his hair. 

It’s a long moment before Castiel releases his arms, pulling them back just enough he can reach up, gently cupping Dean’s jaw. “Oh, Dean. Your dad did all this?” he questions, voice coming out low and gravelly like he’s trying to stop it from breaking. 

“It looks worse than it is.” Dean’s not sure that’s actually true, it hurts like a bitch and Kate had muttered about taking him to the hospital the whole time she was stitching up his arm.

“I shouldn’t have left you alone in there with him.” This time Castiel’s voice does break, and he has to clear his throat, his thumb brushing gingerly over Dean’s bottom lip. 

“If you stayed you’d just look like this too,” Dean points out. Maybe two against one they could have gotten out of it sooner, or Dean wouldn’t have resigned himself to just waiting for his dad to run out of steam, but the idea that Castiel got hurt at all wasn’t worth it, not even a little. Castiel frowns at him, his eyes particularly dark, almost stormy as he meets Dean’s gaze. 

“Do you want to go get coffee?” Castiel questions. It’s not a question Dean expects, eyebrows lifting a little. 

“Last I checked we had class in like, five minutes.” 

“Fuck class.” Castiel shakes his head, looking over Dean’s face slowly again, moving to brush his fingers over Dean’s cheek where he knows there’s a particularly dark bruise. He lets out a soft sigh, pushing himself up to cover the same spot with a feather light kiss. “Come on.” He’s already moving, pulling Dean around the car and opening the passenger door for him. 

“Such a gentleman,” Dean mutters, climbing into the seat. Maybe he does look worse than he thinks if Castiel is so happy to skip his favorite class. Castiel is quiet as he joins Dean, reaching out for his hand almost immediately, gripping it tightly. Tension pinches his features tight, stiff lines around his lips and pressing between his eyebrows. 

“There’s an art museum I like to go to sometimes,” he says after a long moment, still staring down at their hands. “It’s quiet. We could pick up coffee and go there.” Castiel’s voice has a heaviness Dean’s never heard in it before. He doesn’t look too good either, circles under his eyes, clothes rumpled. In fact, now that Dean’s looking he’s pretty sure it’s the same thing Castiel was wearing yesterday. What did he expect, though? Dean wouldn’t just sit back and relax if he’d been the one pushed out. Hell, he’d probably break the window to get back in, even though it’s probably for the best that didn’t happen. 

“Hey,” Dean says softly, reaching out to cup Castiel’s jaw gently, pulling his gaze up to meet him. “I’m okay. I might look like shit, but I’m okay.” Castiel’s eyes are glistening as he shakes his head.

“It’s not okay, though! I thought my parents were the worst when Gabriel came out and my mom threatened to kick him out. She got over it, but she never…” Castiel waves his hand in front of him, gesturing up and down Dean. 

“I know, baby. Trust me, I know. Kate had the same talk with me last night, about how we had to hold my dad accountable for all of this.” He pauses, worrying his lip, the one to drop his gaze down to their hands this time. “She kicked him out. She’s serious about it, said that she’s going to go file a temporary restraining order today.” 

“Good.” There’s no waver in Castiel’s voice there, no uncertainty. “I just don’t understand how someone so terrible could create you and your brothers.” Dean finds a small smile working its way across his face, despite the heavy mood still in the air. 

“Whoa, almost sounds like you have a crush on me or something there, Cas.” This time he does get a hint of a smile, even as Castiel rolls his eyes. 

“I can’t believe you look like that and you’re still joking,” he complains, pulling his hand away so he can start the car up. 

“What can I say? It’s my special talent.” 

“Repressing emotions? What an excellent talent,” Castiel says, backing out of his spot and returning his hand to Dean as soon as he can. This probably constituted distracted driving but Dean doesn’t think they’ve sat in a car together without holding hands since they started dating. 

“I have other talents too, they’re just not appropriate to show off right now. More after dark talents, you know?” Castiel smiles a little wider at that, shaking his head. Dean squeezes Castiel’s hand gently, rubbing his thumb back and forth lightly. He wasn’t going to suggest skipping, he is still really, really trying not to be a bad influence, but he’s relieved that Castiel suggested it. He’s exhausted and even more sore than he’d been last night. Hopefully coffee will give him some energy and not just leave his headache growing.    
  
Castiel insists on stopping by Blackbird for their coffee, returning to the car with two cups and a bag of pastries in hand. Dean can see a small wince when Castiel looks at his face again, but he’s more easily persuaded to relax this time. At first when they pull up, Dean thinks Castiel is lost. It’s a house, in the middle of more houses. Nice houses, sure, but nothing special. There’s a small sign hanging over the door, though, and Castiel climbs out and grabs Dean’s hand to lead him in. 

“Afternoon, Castiel.” An older woman sits at the desk, glasses perched at the end of her nose, so far down Dean doesn’t see how they can be of any help there. A crossword book lies open on the desk in front of her, the puzzle half filled and a stumpy pencil in her hand. “Got a guest today?” 

“Yes. This is-” 

“Yeah, Dean, I know. Heard all about you, son. You might want to get your eyes checked though,” she says, glancing at Castiel. “You were going on an awful lot about how cute he is for him to show up looking like this.” Castiel’s face floods with color as he shakes his head. 

“You were going on about me?” Dean questions, nudging Castiel with his shoulder. 

“I- I wasn’t! I just-” Castiel huffs softly, letting go of Dean’s hand to wrestle his wallet out of his pocket, digging out a few dollars and slapping them on the counter. 

“You know your money’s no good here.” She pushes the money back to him, glancing at the cups in their hands. “If you’re going to spill, the abstracts are up this month. Do it in there.” 

“Thanks,” Castiel grumbles, snatching the money back from the counter and practically dragging Dean in after him. 

“You do like to come here, don’t you?” Dean can’t help but tease, and it’s an enormous relief to have something that takes the attention off of him. “I didn’t know you had a gossip buddy.” 

“She’s- I’ve been coming here for years, she’s worked here the whole time. She’s my mom’s friend,” Castiel defends, cheeks still red. 

“Do you tell all your mom’s friends that I’m cute?” Squeezing Castiel’s hand, he bumps his shoulder again, knocking them off course for a moment. 

“I’m going to be telling them you’re the worst pretty soon.” 

“You wouldn’t,” Dean replies. He really doesn’t think Castiel would, no matter how mad Dean made him. He doesn’t understand it, exactly why Castiel likes him so much, but he knows that it’s turned out pretty fucking good for him. Castiel apparently decides against answering, marching along purposefully. He seems to know exactly where he wants to go, moving between rooms and down halls with the ease of someone who knows the place like their home. 

He comes to a stop in a small, fairly dimly lit room. “This one’s my favorite.” There’s a small bench that Castiel leads them over too, sitting down. Dean sinks down next to him, glancing around. 

“What is it?” 

“Hold on,” Castiel says, setting the bag of pastries to the side and looking intently at the blank wall in front of them. Dean stares for a few seconds, not quite sure where this is going. He’s about to speak up when the lights dim further and an intricate pattern appears on the wall. It starts to move, swimming around slowly before it starts to turn as well. The color of the lights projected shift so subtly that Dean doesn’t really notice until a new one is there. It’s pretty fucking cool, especially for art, he’ll admit that. 

The best part, though, is when he looks over at Castiel. He carries so much stress in his face, something exacerbated today, but those lines have softened. There’s an intensity to his stare that Dean likes to give him a hard time for, but in part it’s just because he doesn’t understand how someone can put so much energy into a single moment. Right now he’s lasered in on the display in front of them, hardly even blinking, and the smallest, sweetest smile Dean’s ever seen poking at his lips. “I think this is my favorite because it reminds me of you,” Castiel announces after a moment, not moving his gaze away from the wall. 

“This? Me?” Dean repeats a little incredulously. 

“Yes. You told me I was like a star, the kind people can only get a glimpse of.” The bastard did remember more from the party, Dean is absolutely pressing him on that later, but for now, he just watches Castiel speak. “But you… Seeing you for the first time, you’re beautiful. I’ve already told you that. Then I look a little longer, a little deeper, and there’s so much more. Every time I look, there’s something new to see, something new that takes my breath away. Neverending, but I can’t get enough. It doesn’t matter if it builds up and I can’t breathe because I have something better. I get to see the real you.” 

That lump is back in Dean’s throat, along with his heart. He spends so much time thinking about how great Castiel is, he never stopped to consider that Castiel even could feel this way about him, let alone that he would. It almost feels like he’s gotten away with some con, tricking Castiel into thinking he’s more than he is. Emotion washes over him in a wave, choking back any words he might’ve hoped to form. Instead, he presses himself against Castiel’s side, laying his head on his shoulder and staring at the wall, trying to see whatever it is the other sees. 

The display continues for several minutes before it goes dark again. There was the whir of a projector that must’ve started up along with the lights, quiet enough Dean hadn’t heard it then but he hears the absence now. Neither of them move, both still staring at the wall. With anyone else, it could be awkward, but as everything seems to be with Castiel it’s perfect. 

It takes a few moments, but Dean finally finds his voice again. He doesn’t let himself think too hard about it, because he knows if he does he’s not going to be able to get it out. “Hey, Cas?” 

“Mhmm?” At some point Castiel’s head has leaned against his, a warm and welcome weight. 

“I love you.” The projector whirs back to life, now familiar shapes taking life in front of them. Dean wants to see Castiel’s face, gauge his reaction, but he also doesn’t want to move from where he’s at right now, in this fragile, surreal bubble. 

“I love you too.” At first Dean thinks he just imagined it, but Castiel squeezes down on his hand, and then he says it again. “I love you.” 

“Cool.” It’s so far beyond cool, but Dean’s brain is out of words and he doesn’t think he needs any more right now. He settles in against Castiel’s side a little more heavily. Soft lights dance across their faces, replaying the story Castiel had weaved. If there is another soul in the world, Dean doesn’t care. He has the most important one right here. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> alternate chapter title: two big soft babies being dumb and in love


	21. Chapter 21

“Everyone keeps telling me buying food in college sucks, but it has to be better than this.” Charlie stabs at the hunk of what they were told is meatloaf, holding it up and inspecting it with her lips wrinkled in distaste. “Seriously, who ever thought serving cafeteria meatloaf was a good idea?” 

“You knew it was meatloaf day, you could have gone somewhere,” Balthazar points out, grinning when Charlie shoots him a glare that Castiel thinks is a little more than is necessary for the comment. 

“Whatever. You just know you’re going to have better food than all of us for the next four years.” 

“Just because Juilliard is a prestigious school doesn’t mean our food will be that much better.” Castiel can’t count how many times Balthazar has not-so-subtly brought up the acceptance letter he received last week. It’s a little obnoxious, but he’s happy enough for his friend to let it go for now. Besides, Charlie is encouraging it by bringing it up now anyway. 

“I already talked Gabriel into sending me care packages,” Castiel says. “He has to practice baking for class and he needs something to do with the leftovers.” 

“You’re telling me Gabriel doesn’t eat them all?” Balthazar questions incredulously. 

“That’s what I thought, too, but it’s too much even for him.” Castiel bites his lip, thumping the plastic fork in his hand against the tray a few times. “He’s got a couple more mouths to feed now, though.” 

“I thought it was just him and Luke,” Charlie says, reaching over to help herself to the clump of grapes in front of Castiel. He doesn’t know they’ve ever made it through a lunch without her stealing from somebody else’s plate. Her fiery hair swims around her head as she looks over her shoulder before she pops the grape into her mouth. 

“Well… Luke sort of made it official last night. That’s not the right word for it, but he… he told everyone.” 

“Don’t keep us in suspense here, Cassie. He told everyone what?” Balthazar questions, leaning back in his chair. 

“He has a girlfriend- Well, a fiance now, I guess. And she’s pregnant.” 

“No shit!” Charlie’s jaw drops. Castiel had been friends with her and Balthazar through most of high school, so they’d only seen and heard about Luke and Michael in passing, but it was enough that they had a pretty good idea of their general character. 

“Yeah. He brought her over to dinner last night. He never asks, he just shows up. I thought my mom was going to have a heart attack.” Castiel suspects that if Luke hadn’t had Kelly there with him, she would’ve shut the door in his face again, but she couldn’t stomach doing the same to a woman who was seven months pregnant. 

“So Luke’s like… okay and stuff?” Charlie questions. Again, Castiel’s never gotten into the details but they knew Luke was in and out of trouble. 

“Yeah, he’s working really hard. You know, he’s got a job, apparently a good enough one to get a decent ring. Kelly is really sweet too, I think she helps.” Castiel had been surprised to meet her. Luke could be abrasive at best, but she seemed to take it in stride, and Castiel is pretty sure he’s never seen his brother smile as much as he did last night. 

“So you’re going to be Uncle Castiel now?” Balthazar questions, grinning. His eyes flick over Castiel’s shoulder, briefly, before coming back to his face. 

“I guess I am. Michael lost it, this is the first time I’ve ever seen him take off like he did,” Castiel mutters, giving his head a small shake. He’d given Dean some details in texts last night, but he’d run in late this morning and the test they had in class meant they couldn’t whisper through the hour like they usually did. Now, he had some meeting to go to for hockey, apparently, though Castiel had spotted a few other players in the cafeteria. 

“Probably just jealous,” Charlie says bluntly. “I bet that man has never been laid in his life.” 

“Charlie! He’s my brother, don’t say that.” 

“What? Are you telling me that you know he has been laid?” Castiel groans and drops his head to his hands, shaking his head. It’s bad enough he has to know that Luke and Kelly had obviously had sex, he doesn’t want to think about any of his other siblings and that part of their life. When he picks his head up, Charlie is frowning down at her phone, glancing over her shoulder again. Balthazar is looking over Castiel’s shoulder again, and he frowns slightly as well, glancing back as well. He doesn’t see anything spectacular, turning back to his friends. 

“So does this mean Michael is finally out of the house for a while?” Balthazar questions. He’s looking at Castiel again instead of over his shoulder, maybe he just imagined it. 

“No. He was gone for less than half an hour before he came back, and our mom was babying him the whole time,” Castiel grumbles with a small roll of his eyes. He always complained about Luke acting immature but they’re the same age and Michael pulls his own stunts to get their parents attention, he just doesn’t think of them in the same way. 

“At least you’ll be out soon,” Charlie points out. “Maybe your brother will actually get a job and head out too.” 

“Oh, he hates that Luke has a job and he doesn’t. I think that might be what bothers him the most, but maybe he’ll put himself out there a little more.” Castiel glances down at his plate, picking up one of the grapes and inspecting it. “Sometimes I think you two are lucky you don’t have any siblings.” If he didn’t have his family, Castiel knows he would be lonely. They’re more tolerant of some of his weirder habits, which was especially nice when he was little and wasn’t any good at making friends. Still, sometimes he wishes there wasn’t so much drama all the time. 

“Yeah, I don’t think we could handle having another little Balthazar running around,” Charlie says with a grin, throwing yet another look over her shoulder. This time she seems to see what she’s looking for, lifting an arm and waving. Castiel twists back to see Benny crossing the cafeteria towards them, waving back. 

“Finally,” Balthazar mutters, dropping his plastic fork with a soft clatter. Castiel glances at him, surprised. Balthazar and Benny are both nice enough, but they didn’t seem like they had a lot in common. He couldn’t imagine what they’d be doing together. “Is it time?” Balthazar is pushing himself out of his chair when Benny nods at him. 

“Hey, Cas,” Benny greets. “You might want to hold on to your seat there, brother.” 

“I- what?” Benny doesn’t say anything else, just grabs the back of Castiel’s chair and tugs him away from the table before he crouches next to him. “Benny, what are you doing?” 

“Ready?” 

“Yes.” Castiel’s head whips to the side, surprised to see Balthazar kneeling there as well. 

“What’s going on?” he questions. No one answers, and instead Castiel is left gasping when Benny and Balthazar are lifting his chair up, balancing him on their shoulders. He is holding on, gripping the edges of his seat tightly, trying to stay as still as he can so they don’t drop him. He catches a glimpse of Charlie rushing ahead, pulling a door open for them. Castiel opens his mouth to demand an answer, but he’s interrupted by a blast of music as they step into the hall. It’s some old rock ballad, the singer dragging out the word ‘angel’ over and over again in a way that Castiel frankly finds a little annoying, but he’s starting to develop an idea of what’s happening. He only knows one person who liked this music enough to have it playing this loudly. 

They march on down the hall, towards a row of posters leaning up against the lockers. As they get closer, Castiel can see that there are actually candles by some of them, lit and flickering softly. Classroom doors crack open and students and teachers peer out curiously. Some of them are shooed back inside, but some stay, watching Castiel getting paraded by. A loud whistle echoes down the hall, and Castiel catches sight of Sam leaning out of one of the doorways, looking entirely too cheery. Each of the posters has a giant letter painted on it. The first one looks to be a P, and Castiel’s suspicion grows even stronger. 

What seals it is when Benny and Balthazar come to a stop and Dean steps out into the hall and kneels on one knee in front of them, holding out a single orange lily. “I have something very important to ask you today,” he says, grinning. “Castiel Jimmy Novak, will you go to prom with me?” 

“If I say yes, will you have your goons put me down?” Balthazar lets out an indignant huff below Castiel that he ignores. He’s going to kill all of them once he gets the chance. 

“I guess you’ll have to say yes and see.” Dean’s wearing the kind of shit-eating grin that tells Castiel he is well aware of what he’s doing. 

“Fine, then. Yes.” The chair starts to dip until Dean shakes his head. 

“Yes what?” Nobody looking that smug should also be so  _ hot _ , especially still wearing a constellation of healing bruises. 

“Yes, I’ll go to prom with you.” The chair descends again, and Castiel straightens his legs as soon as he can reach the ground. He doesn’t get the chance to say anything because Dean is wrapping him up in his arms and practically sweeping him off his feet to kiss him, and Castiel kind of forgets why he was annoyed in the first place. “You’re such an ass,” he mutters once they break apart, grinning as well as he reaches up to cup Dean’s cheeks. 

“Alright, Winchester, you done?” Castiel twists to see Mr. Shirley standing with his arms folded over his chest, one of the computer speakers usually on his desk sitting on the floor by his feet. 

“All done,” Dean announces, offering a thumbs up. Castiel’s cheeks are already pink and go a little darker when the teacher locks eyes with Castiel and gives him a thumbs up back. Mr. Shirley disappears into the classroom and the music cuts off, leaving the hall blissfully quiet. Those loitering in the hall head back now that the excitement is over, leaving their little group. Charlie is blowing out candles, and Balthazar collects the posters while Benny hangs back with the chair hanging off his arm. 

“Want a ride back to the cafeteria?” he offers, giving them a crooked little grin. 

“No,” Castiel and Balthazar answer at the same time. Castiel would be happy to never have that happen again. Dean finally releases Castiel to collect the candles, thanking Charlie and Balthazar quietly. Castiel busies himself looking at the posters while they chat. They’re big blocky letters, one on each, with a very thin question mark smashed in next to the M at the end. 

The R is colored in black, a few smudges around the sides where it looks like someone got ink on their hands while they were working. The O has a cute little scene inside when Castiel looks closer, and he thinks he recognizes himself and Dean holding hands. It only takes a moment of studying it to recognize Samandriel’s work. Any lingering annoyance is disappearing rapidly. He still didn’t really understand the point of promposals, but he does know that it’s very sweet of Dean to get their friends and their little brothers and a teacher all in on doing this for him. 

A warm arm comes around Castiel’s waist, pulling him in closer. “Adam did the P,” Dean says, pulling back the corners of the other posters to glance at it. “And Sam helped with R. We got ink all over the carpet, but Kate is just making me pay to rent a carpet cleaner so it could be worse. Sam’s the one who pointed out that I should probably have a question mark, but I already had the M made and I didn’t want to go back to the store so we just stuck it on there. Samandriel wanted to take it home to work on, but I thought you might see him and ask about it and I don’t think he can lie that well. But he did keep that comic for my birthday a secret, so maybe he could have and I should have let him. He did a great job anyway, though, so I don’t think-” Castiel cuts him off with a slow kiss, arm coming around his neck to hold him there for a moment. 

“You’re rambling, bug,” he says softly, smiling as he pulls back to look over Dean’s face. “Are you nervous?” 

“No. I mean- Well, yes, I was. You  _ did _ say you didn’t want to go, but I thought you were kind of joking. It would have been really fucking embarrassing if you said no in front of everybody. Not that you can’t say no if you don’t want to go, you can change your mind now too.” 

“I was kind of joking,” Castiel agrees. The posters are crumpling between them and Castiel really does want to save them, but he always has a hard time convincing himself to do anything that involves moving away from Dean. “I do want to go. I think I’ve been persuaded.” It’s even harder to convince himself to even consider pulling away when a bright grin breaks across Dean’s face. Hot when he’s smug, hot when he’s happy, hot when he’s sweaty and tired after a game. Maybe Castiel is biased, but he thinks that Dean might just be hot all the time. 

“Cool,” Dean says, dipping down to kiss Castiel again. 

“Cool.” Castiel pulls Dean a little closer, humming softly against his lips. “What’s your middle name?” 

“Michael.” Castiel immediately pulls a face, and Dean grins even wider, laughing. “Yeah, I thought that’s what would happen.” 

“I’m surprised you remembered Jimmy,” Castiel admits, leaning into the touch as Dean runs his fingers through his hair. 

“I liked you, I wanted to know things about you.” 

“You liked me?” It’s Castiel’s turn to grin. “I had no idea. Do you think you had a crush on me?” 

“You’re the worst,” Dean mutters, smiling against Castiel’s lips as he comes in for another kiss. The only thing that really convinces Castiel to pull away this time is remembering they’re standing in the middle of the hall at school. He untangles himself entirely, adjusting his grip on the posters and smoothing out the ones that had gotten wrinkled. 

“I don’t believe you think that either.” Castiel reaches out for Dean’s hand, lacing their fingers together and giving it a small squeeze. “Considering you just bribed all of our friends into doing this.” 

“I didn’t have to bribe anyone,” Dean defends, before pausing and shaking his head. “Actually, that’s not true, I did have to bribe Balthazar a little, but everyone else volunteered.” They start back towards the cafeteria at a snail's pace, hands swinging between them. 

“How did you manage to bribe Balthazar?” 

“Kate gets all these cheap theater tickets through a program at the hospital. Apparently he wanted to see The Importance of Being Earnest bad enough he’d carry you.” That’s pretty sweet too, that Dean would think of that to bribe Balthazar. Castiel never thought he’d be considering a bribe sweet, but it wasn’t really a bribe. It was more of an incentive. 

“He’s probably going to beg me to go with him at the last minute,” Castiel muses, bumping Dean’s shoulder gently with his own. 

“It’s the price you have to pay for a night with me.” 

“You mean I have to go to prom  _ and _ pay an extra price on top of that? You’re going to have to make it worth my while.” 

“Oh, are you challenging me, Cas?” Dean bumps him back, knocking their path into a slow zig-zag down the hall. 

“Maybe so. Are you up for the challenge?” Castiel grins, tilting his head up a little to look up at Dean, squeezing his hand tightly. Dean doesn’t have to do anything to make it worth it, Castiel is going to be happy just to be with him, but if he can use it as leverage to get a few extra kisses, he’s absolutely going to. 

“We’ll see if you can handle the challenge. Last time you challenged me, I got a hot date to the prom.” Dean meets his gaze, winking, and Castiel feels like he could melt into the floor right there. Prom might turn out to be worth it after all.

***

Whatever is pulling at the blankets needs to stop before Castiel loses his mind. He tries to pull them up over his head again, only to have them tugged back down. He whines softly, grabbing at the blankets but this time he can’t even get them back over his head. “Hello, sunshine. I never knew you hated mornings so much.” Castiel frowns, squinting his eyes open, Dean’s face swimming into focus. 

“Not morning yet,” he grumbles, yanking at the blanket and hiding his face again.

“Past morning, actually. Sam’s game is in an hour.” Dean is wiggling closer under the blankets, the weight on Castiel’s stomach growing tighter, and he realizes it’s Dean’s arm. Since the blankets don’t seem to be a viable option, Castiel rolls onto his side, finding Dean’s chest and pressing his face there instead, wrapping his arms around him. 

“Not morning,” he repeats, shaking his head a little. Dean’s soft laugh reverberates through his chest, tickling Castiel’s cheek. His hand passes through Castiel’s hair, something that seems to be happening more and more often lately and that Castiel is finding he is a huge fan of, even when it’s waking him up. 

“You are really fucking cute.” 

“Not cute.” 

“And argumentative,” Dean adds, pressing a kiss down into Castiel’s hair, one of his hands moving down his back. The soft cotton of Dean’s shirt is smooth and pleasant against Castiel’s cheek where he nuzzles in a little closer, doing very little to convince him that he should be getting up. “It was much easier to convince you to come up here last night.” 

“You talk too much,” Castiel whines, squeezing his arms more tightly around Dean. Technically, Kate said he could stay if he slept down on the sofa, but when they’d stumbled through the door giggling and more than a little tipsy at three in the morning, he was very agreeable to Dean pulling him up the stairs instead. “Do we have to go to Sam’s game?” 

“You’re the one who said that you wanted to.” Dean’s voice is still soft and gentle even though Castiel has done nothing but quarrel so far. He slowly tips his head up, lips brushing at Dean’s neck, earning a happy little hum in response. 

“What if I changed my mind?” 

“You didn’t and you would be mad at me if we skipped out.”

“Since when are you the reasonable one?” Castiel gripes, pressing another light kiss to Dean’s neck. 

“Apparently it takes a while for your brain cells to wake up.” Castiel huffs softly, gently rolling Dean onto his back and climbing over him. It takes a few seconds to blink the sleep out of his eyes. When he does, Dean’s wearing a soft smile, a warm and gentle look in his eyes. His hair is a little mussed, and there’s a few light red lines pressed into his cheek where he must have been sleeping. Even if Castiel’s brain cells were awake, they weren’t working right now with such a sight before him. 

“I love you.” He’d honestly been surprised when Dean had been the one to say it first. There was still some little part of Castiel who was afraid this wouldn’t last, that Dean wasn’t actually, really invested the way he was. He was okay with that too, just riding the high while he could, but every day Dean does more to remind him that he’s feeling the same. 

“I love you too,” Dean answers, arms coming around Castiel’s neck to pull him down for a kiss. It’s nice to settle heavily here, letting his elbows come down to the bed to hold himself up just enough not to crush Dean while he kisses him back. It’d be easy to stay right here for the rest of the morning, but Dean’s hands move to his shoulder and push gently. “We still have to get up.” 

“My distraction tactic isn’t working?” Castiel sits back on his knees, spreading his palms on Dean’s chest. 

“Oh, it’s working, but you and Sam will both be up my ass if I don’t make you get up right now. Fear is a powerful motivator, babe.” Castiel huffs softly, sliding sideways off of Dean and flopping back on the bed. 

“Is it just the hangover or are you always this grumpy when you wake up?” Dean questions, turning to his side and propping his head up on his hand. 

“I’m not grumpy.” 

“I’ll ask you again later,” Dean says, leaning in to take a brief kiss before he’s climbing out of the bed and stretching. Castiel lets his eyes roam as he does. He had managed to convince them both to change out of their tuxes before they laid down, and even though he’d been drooling over Dean then he’s just as close to drooling now. 

“Come on, stop staring at me and get up.” Dean tosses one of their jackets at Castiel, hitting him in the face with it. It must be Castiel’s. There’s the remains of a lily smeared across the pocket that had started out full and beautiful and gotten more and more crushed as the night went on. Gabriel had suggested they go in matching tuxes, and demanded he chose them when they agreed. Something about how neither of them could pick a nice outfit from a pile of garbage. Castiel didn’t really care, and it turned out to be a great idea because Dean had looked absolutely fantastic. With an admittedly dramatic groan, Castiel sits up, edging to the side of the bed. 

“Can we get coffee on the way?” he questions, rubbing his hand over his face, scrunching his eyes closed. 

“You’re so needy,” Dean teases, coming over to reach for Castiel’s hands, tugging him up. He’s already managed to get jeans on, Castiel missed that some time in his rolling around. Now that he’s standing he feels a tiny, fractional bit more awake, but he’d still rather be laying in the bed with Dean. 

“Maybe I wouldn’t be so tired if you had stopped talking to me before the sun came up,” he complains, shuffling across the room to the backpack he’d dropped off before they left yesterday. He’ll put on his own pants, but he’s keeping Dean’s t-shirt and he’s stealing one of his hoodies too. If he has to get up, he’s going to be cozy. 

“You were talking just as much as me, babe.” Castiel just huffs again, shoving his legs into his jeans. 

“Where’s your grey hoodie?” he questions, glancing around the room and spotting it hanging over the back of the desk chair. Dean glances at Castiel’s bag pointedly, but doesn’t comment, just waits for Castiel to tug the hoodie on and greets him with a kiss on his cheek on the other side. It’s really hard to hold on to his mood when Dean keeps coming into his space like this. 

“I’m not going to have any of my own clothes left if you keep that up,” Dean says, gently tugging at the bottom of the hoodie. 

“Oh no, my boyfriend isn’t going to have any clothes left, what a shame for me. He’ll just have to go without them.” 

“I never knew you were such a pervert, Cas.” Castiel shrugs, a small smile pulling at his lips as he reaches for Dean’s hand. 

“I’m not a pervert.” 

“You kind of are. I wouldn’t have guessed you’d give me a blow job at prom, either,” Dean muses, starting towards the door, pulling Castiel after him. 

“I didn’t give you a blow job at prom!” Dean glances back over his shoulder, lifting an eyebrow, and Castiel feels his cheeks go warm. “I gave you a blow job at the party after prom, it’s different.” 

“How exactly is that different?” Dean lets go of Castiel’s hand to grab his boots, shoving his feet in and tucking the laces in haphazardly. He’s going to break his neck one day if he can’t put in the effort to tie his shoes. 

“It’s different because… I don’t know, it just is.” Castiel crouches in front of Dean, tugging the laces out of his boots and tying them for him before he grabs his own shoes. “Why do you wear boots if you don’t want to wear them properly? You could wear something that you didn’t have to tie.” 

“They wouldn’t look as cool as my boots though,” Dean says, holding up one of his feet and wiggling it a little. Castiel rolls his eyes as he straightens up, taking Dean’s hand again. He’s not going to say it, but he did think Dean looked cool. Even now that Castiel knows he’s one of the kindest, softest people he’s ever met, he can still pull off the tough guy look. Like he’s reading Castiel’s mind, Dean goes for his worn leather jacket, shrugging it on. It hangs just a little too far over Dean’s hands, but it doesn’t stop Castiel from reaching for him as they head outside.

It’s been less than half an hour since Castiel woke up, usually not enough time for him to completely snap out of the slump that comes with being pulled from sleep, but he’s feeling pretty good as he slides into the Impala, reflexively reaching over to turn down the radio as soon as Dean starts the car. It usually ends up back at the original volume at some point, but Castiel likes to give his ears a few seconds to adjust before they’re blasted. The first time Sam saw him do it, Castiel thought his jaw was going to hit the floor. Apparently Dean gives him special privileges. 

“We’re getting fast food coffee. And fast food breakfast,” Dean announces. “Gabe’s not here to make us hangover breakfast this time, this is the second best option.” 

“Sounds good.” Even if it didn’t, Castiel didn’t think he could talk Dean out of the food he wanted. Special privileges or not, Cas knows better than to get between Dean and his food. He reaches for the sun visor, tipping it down and taking a glance at himself in the mirror. His hair looks like an absolute disaster. It usually did, but he’d put some gel in to try to smooth it down last night. He didn’t think it’d helped too much, but this morning it’s working to encourage random pieces of his hair to stick straight out from his head. He runs his hand over it once, but it makes no difference, and Castiel is willing to bet any progress he made Dean would gladly undo. He seems to like it when Castiel’s hair is messy and who is Castiel to deny him that? 

Tilting his head, Castiel catches sight of a dark hickey at the junction of his neck and shoulder. Dean left it there originally a few weeks ago, as soon as his lip healed up enough he could take kisses without wincing, and he seems intent on making sure that it doesn’t go anywhere. He tugs the neck of the hoodie aside a little to inspect it before settling back, looking over at Dean. 

“Donuts,” Dean announces, turning into the drive through. “Donuts and coffee. Can’t go wrong.” Castiel’s stomach rumbles softly like it’s agreeing with Dean. He settles back in his seat, content to let Dean order for him. He liked to most of the time anyway, especially when they went out places Dean really liked and Castiel wasn’t as familiar with, and he hadn’t made a bad call yet. 

Soon they’re headed towards the soccer field, each carrying a giant, sugary, blended vaguely coffee adjacent drink. The donuts hadn’t lasted to ride over, and Castiel didn’t want to take them into the stands anyway. He’s definitely seen Dean poke fun at other people for getting similar drinks, but he’s not surprised that Dean likes them. They taste good, and they have caffeine, and today that’s really all Castiel cares about. It’s kind of hard to care about anything, really, because Dean’s swinging their hands between them and excitedly retelling the story of the first time Bobby let him hold a sword and Castiel is as happy as he’s ever been. 

They find a spot and settle in, sitting pressed side to side. Castiel has gone to more sporting events this year than the rest of his high school years put together. He’s more familiar with hockey than soccer, but he gets the gist. Sam is probably more athletic than Dean, even though Castiel definitely has a favorite. Sam had taken a break from soccer for a few weeks after treatment, but it doesn’t seem to have put him out at all. Castiel is surprised to feel a swell of pride in his chest when Sam scores the first goal, like it’s his own brother out there. 

It’s a fun game to watch, though that might just be because Sam’s team is winning. Really, what Castiel’s enjoying is watching Dean, how quickly his face lights up any time Sam is on the field, the crinkle of frustration in his forehead when the other team scores, the way he tilts his head back a little and practically howls when he’s cheering for his brother. Once or twice Dean catches him staring, but he doesn’t do much to deter Castiel from doing it when he responds by kissing him. 

The last quarter fizzles out a little, the motivation of the opposing team clearly falling with each passing second. Castiel’s hand is freezing, still holding just a little less than half a cup of slushy coffee. Dean abandoned his earlier, Castiel didn’t see where but his hands are free now. The final whistle sounds and the game is called, players starting down the field to exchange high fives before they file off. 

“Sam’s having another growth spurt, it’s not fair,” Dean says, leaning into Castiel’s side while people around them file out of the stands. “I mean look at him, he’s already taller than half the guys out there.” 

“I think he’s taller than you now.”

“He is not!” Dean says, so aggressively that Castiel can guess that Sam’s told him the same thing. 

“He is, wait until he comes over.” 

“You’re talking yourself into walking home here buddy.” It’s an empty threat, especially when Dean grabs his hand to stand and head down towards the field. Sam jogs over to greet them, duffle bag swinging against his hip, grinning so wide that his dimples are pressed deep into his cheeks. 

“Nice game, Sam,” Castiel greets, giving him a warm smile in return. “Hey, come stand by Dean, I think you’re taller than him now.” 

“I am.” 

“You are not! You guys are just blind,” Dean protests, letting go of Castiel’s hand so he can dodge around Sam as his brother comes closer. 

“You know, denying it doesn’t change that it’s true or that me and Cas already know it,” Sam points out, stumbling when Dean grabs the strap of his bag on the next pass, pulling at him. 

“Well, I can still kick your ass!” Dean shoves at Sam’s shoulder, which is enough to get Sam to drop his bag, turning to face him. 

“Oh yeah? Let me see you try!” Castiel smiles softly as he watches the two of them chase each other across the field, both laughing, grabbing and pushing at each other any time they’re close enough. Sam’s uniform was already streaked in grass stains, but now Dean has a few on his jeans thanks to a few well timed jabs from Sam. They’ve apparently made up as they return, Dean’s arm slung over Sam’s shoulder, which is definitely a little bit taller than his. He catches Castiel under his other arm while Sam picks up his bag, leading them out into the parking lot. 

“We should go get lunch!” Dean exclaims, letting go of them so he can dig his keys from his pocket. 

“Fine, but I want to go somewhere that has salads,” Sam says, tugging the door open and shoving the empty donut box aside. 

“You have to get one of the big ones then.” Castiel catches the way Dean glances at his brother in the rearview mirror. Sam’s doing a lot better, but Castiel knows that Dean worries. He worries too. Sam is very much like Dean in that he can be unwilling to ask for help when he needs it. Castiel reaches over, giving Dean’s hand a little squeeze. “What about Panera? You could get a sandwich too.” 

“Deal,” Sam agrees, heaving his bag over his legs and dropping it on the floor. “Didn’t you just clean out your car last week?” he questions, picking at a pile of papers on the seat next to him. 

“I told you it was a waste of time,” Dean says, starting the car up. Sam glances at the radio and then Castiel like he still can’t believe anyone convinced Dean to play his music at a tolerable level. 

“Wait, do you have all of our mail in here?” Sam questions, holding up an envelope. “I think this is the water bill Kate was looking for yesterday.” 

“Once it goes into the back seat it doesn’t exist any more, that’s not my fault.” 

“Then don’t put the mail in the back seat.” Dean just shrugs, reaching over to nudge the volume of the radio up. There’s a moment of quiet, music filling the space between them while Sam shuffles through the papers. 

“Dean.” Sam’s voice is serious and Castiel twists to look back at him. “You didn’t open this?” As soon as Sam holds up the envelope, Castiel recognizes the logo emblazoned on the corner. 

“I must not have noticed it.” Castiel glances at Dean, who has both hands on the steering wheel now, gripping a little more tightly than he needs to. 

“Or you were hiding it,” Sam argues. Dean shrugs, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth and starting to worry it. “I’m opening it.” 

“We don’t have to do it right now, Sammy.” Dean’s thumbs start tapping against the wheel now, full fidget mode engaged. 

“Oops, it’s already open,” Sam says, ripping the end of the envelope and pulling the paper out. Castiel shifts, sideways on the bench seat now so he can watch Sam read. Castiel has his hopes, the envelope looked thick, it looked a hell of a lot like the one he’d opened a few weeks ago. Sam clears his throat, unfolding the paper. “Mr. Dean Winchester, we are pleased to offer you admission to the University of Kansas.” 

“Don’t fuck with me, Sam, that’s not funny,” Dean says, now gripping the steering wheel so tightly his arms are almost locked straight. 

“I’m not fucking with you! Here, Cas, you tell him.” Sam shoves the paper over the seat and Castiel takes it readily. 

“Mr. Dean Winchester, we are pleased to offer you admission to the University of Kansas,” Castiel repeats, grinning. He knew Dean deserved to get in, he knew Dean was smart and capable and worthy, but he knows how little his boyfriend thought of himself. 

“Are you serious?” Dean questions, sparing a quick glance over at Castiel. 

“Yes, Dean. Should I read it again?” 

“No. Holy shit. Wait, yes, are you sure it says I’m in?” 

“It is exactly what my letter said and I’m pretty sure I got in,” Castiel says. “Pleased to offer you admission generally means they’re inviting you to the school.” Dean stares out at the road in absolute silence for a long moment before he swears under his breath, pulling over on the shoulder. 

“Let me see.” Castiel offers the letter happily. Dean’s eyes are bright as he scans the line, reading it over a few times and mouthing the words to himself. “I got in,” he finally says, setting the letter down on the seat and shaking his head a little. 

“We told you that you would,” Sam chirps, poking at Dean’s shoulder. 

“You guys aren’t fucking with me?” Dean questions again, looking back and forth between Castiel and his brother. The hopeful expression on his face reminds Castiel a lot of the one he’d worn before they’d kissed, a little incredulous and a little bit terrified. 

“We wouldn’t,” Castiel promises. He might be a little offended that Dean needed to ask, but he knows it has more to do with Dean rejecting the idea of anything good happening to him than a distrust of him or Sam. Dean’s gaze flickers between them for another second before he slowly smiles, looking down at the letter one more time. 

“I got in,” he repeats, grin growing by the second. “I actually fucking did it!” Dean looks up from the letter, dropping it between them and grabbing Castiel, tugging him into an enthusiastic kiss. It leaves Castiel a little breathless when Dean pulls away.

“If you do that to me I’m jumping out of the window,” Sam says sternly, and Dean tilts his head back to let out one of those full-bodied laughs that Castiel loves to see. 

“Fine, you’re safe for now.” Dean settles back in his seat, dropping his hands back to the steering wheel. “Fuck, I can’t believe it. I did it.” 

“You did it, bug,” Castiel agrees, grinning and reaching over to lay his hand on Dean’s leg, giving it a squeeze. Dean laughs again, a little more breathy this time, eyes shining a little as he blinks. 

“Okay. Shit, okay, I can drive. We’re getting lunch.” Dean seems to be talking himself into it, tapping his hands against the wheel with each statement. “I’m listening to Ramble On as loud as I want and you guys have to deal with it.” 

“I think we can allow it,” Castiel says. Sam plays the little brother card and grumbles about it as he sits back in his seat, but he knows that Sam is just as happy for Dean as he is. Dean fiddles with the radio for a moment, skipping through a few songs before he lands on the one he wants and he cranks it up, hands drumming along against the steering wheel almost immediately. Castiel doesn’t know a single word, but he’s absolutely thrilled to sit back and watch Dean sing his heart out, even getting Sam to join in on some backup vocals. He’s spent plenty of time in the last 24 hours ogling Dean, but he thinks he’s finally put his finger on what exactly it is that he’s been so obsessed with. 

Dean is beautiful when he’s happy, and Castiel’s never seen him look more gorgeous. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just wanted to say that I read every single comment and you guys are SO nice and supportive!! I seriously appreciate every single one, and I'm so happy to crap something good out for people to enjoy. Thank you so much 😭


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